Dragon Rider
Page 22

“A basilisk?” The dragon shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Fortunately such monsters are very, very rare,” explained the professor. “The mere sound of their voices or one glance from their terrible eyes is usually enough to kill. In your place any mortal would be dead now, but even a basilisk can’t destroy a dragon so easily.”
“You destroyed it, though,” said Firedrake. “With nothing more than a mirror.”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied Barnabas Greenbloom with an embarrassed smile and ran a hand through his untidy gray hair. “There was no great skill in that, you know. A basilisk can’t survive the sight of its own reflection. As a matter of fact, I’ve never had a chance to try the theory out in real life until today, but that’s what all the books say, and books do sometimes get it right.”
The dragon looked at him thoughtfully. “I think you saved my life,” he said. “How can I thank you?”
“Don’t mention it!” The professor smiled at Firedrake. “It was an honor. Indeed, an extraordinary honor, I do assure you!” He was looking at the dragon with awe and admiration. “I could never even have dared to dream of meeting a dragon in my short human life span, you know. This is a very, very happy day for me.” Much moved, the professor rubbed his nose.
“You know a lot about what human beings call fabulous creatures, don’t you?” said Firedrake curiously, bending his neck down to Barnabas Greenbloom. “Most people don’t even know that we exist.”
“I’ve been doing research into the subject for more than thirty years,” replied the professor. “At the age of ten I was fortunate enough to find a woodland fairy caught up in the netting over a fruit tree in our garden. Since then, of course, no one has been able to convince me that fairies exist only in fairy tales. So why, I thought at the time, why shouldn’t all the other fabulous creatures exist, too? In the end I made it part of my professional career to seek them out — all the creatures described in the old tales, the most ancient stories of all. I’ve discussed rare minerals with dwarves, the flavor of tree bark with trolls, immortality with fairies, and enchantment with a fiery salamander. You, however, are the first dragon I’ve ever met. I was almost sure your species had died out.”
“And what brought you here?” asked Firedrake.
“My search for the winged horse, Pegasus,” replied the professor. “But instead I found this cavern. The hieroglyphs carved in the rock around its entrance give clear warning of a basilisk. The ancient Egyptians knew about those monsters, you see. They thought the basilisk hatched from a poisoned ibis egg. However, another theory claims that a basilisk is born when a five-year-old cockerel lays an egg, which fortunately doesn’t happen very often. Anyway, that’s why I’d hidden the mirror outside, but to be honest with you, I’d never ventured inside the cave before today.”
Thinking of the basilisk’s red eyes, Firedrake could understand the professor’s caution only too well.
“You woke it,” said Barnabas Greenbloom. “Did you realize that?”
“I did?” Firedrake shook his head skeptically. “That’s what the monster said, too, but I was only sleeping here. How could I have woken it?”
“Simply by being in the cave,” replied the professor. “In the course of my research I’ve discovered a very interesting fact: One fabulous creature attracts another. They sense each other’s presence. Sometimes their scalps prickle, sometimes their scales itch. Haven’t you ever felt anything like that?”
Firedrake shook his head. “My scales often itch,” he replied, “but I never thought anything of it.”
The professor nodded thoughtfully. “I assume that the basilisk picked up your scent.”
“It did say I had disturbed its dark dreams,” murmured Firedrake. He shuddered, still feeling sick from the smell given off by the monster.
Professor Greenbloom cleared his throat. “I do have another request,” he said. “You see, we humans don’t seem able to believe that something is real until we’ve touched it. So may I stroke your scales?”
Firedrake stretched out his long neck toward the professor. Barnabas Greenbloom reverently passed his hand over the dragon’s scales.
“Wonderful!” he whispered. “Absolutely wonderful! Er … by the way, about your tail. I’m really sorry I stepped on it. I just didn’t know how else to get you to look away from the basilisk.”
Firedrake smiled and waved his spiny tail back and forth. “Don’t mention it. All it needs is a little of Sorrel’s brownie spit—”The dragon stopped short and looked around him. “But they’re not here yet.” Anxiously he went to the mouth of the cave. “Where can they be?”
Behind him, the professor cleared his throat again. “Has your brownie gone missing?”
Surprised, Firedrake turned around. “Yes, it looks like it.”
Barnabas Greenbloom sighed. “Just as I feared,” he said. “They’re holding a forest brownie prisoner over in the camp.”
Firedrake lashed his tail so violently that he almost knocked over the professor. “Sorrel?” he cried. “They’ve caught her?” Feeling quite dizzy with rage, he bared his teeth. “Where is she? I must help her.”
“No, not you,” said Barnabas Greenbloom quickly. “You’d be in too much danger yourself. I’ll get her out. I’ve been planning to open those cages for some time, anyway.” With a determined expression, he tucked the mirror under his arm and strode toward the mouth of the cave. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, “with your friend Sorrel.”
“Don’t bother, she’s already here,” a voice grunted from the thornbushes outside the cave, and Sorrel pushed her way through the dry branches. Ben followed, with Twigleg on his shoulder. They all looked rather the worse for wear, scratched by the thorns, dusty, and sweaty. Firedrake went over to them, gave Twigleg a brief and puzzled glance, and then anxiously sniffed Ben and Sorrel all over.
“They caught you?” he asked the brownie.
“Yes, but Ben got me out. Along with that manikin there.” Sorrel looked the professor up and down suspiciously, from his head to his dusty boots. “And what, in the name of all ferocious fungi, is this human doing here?”
“Your young companion is a human being, too, as far as I can see!” Barnabas Greenbloom pointed out with the hint of a smile.
“He doesn’t count,” spat Sorrel, crossly putting her paws on her hips. “He’s a friend. But what about you? Think carefully before you answer, because I’m not feeling too well disposed toward humans just now. In fact I’m feeling very ill disposed toward them — sickeningly, toothachingly, green-around-the-gills ill disposed, if you take my meaning.”
Barnabas Greenbloom smiled. “I do take your meaning,” he replied. “The fact is, I —”
“Just a moment,” said Sorrel, taking a wary step toward the professor. “Didn’t I see you back there by the cages?”
“Stop it, Sorrel!” Firedrake interrupted her. “He saved my life.”