The Griffin's Feather Read online

  Kamaharan took the shotgun from his shoulder and aimed at the parrot, but he lowered it when a roar such as had never before been heard on Pulau Bulu came from the sky.

  ‘Yeeeees!’ squawked Me-Rah. ‘Yeeeees! They’re coming!’

  The poachers staggered back. But Ben closed his fingers so tightly on the basketwork of his cage that the marks still showed days later. Barnabas’s face showed the same incredulous joy that he was feeling himself – and the same alarm.

  ‘What’s that?’ cried Winston, while the poachers threw their guns away and Catcher looked up in astonishment.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ cried Hothbrodd, laughing. ‘By Thor, Loki and Odin. It’s a dragon!’

  And then the jungle was full of silver scales.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The Anger of Dragons

  The insufferable arrogance of human beings to think

  that Nature was made solely for their benefit, as if it

  was conceivable that the sun had been set afire merely

  to ripen men’s apples and head their cabbages.

  Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac,

  The Comical History of the States and Empires

  of the Worlds of the Moon and Sun

  It was a very long time since Firedrake had felt such anger.

  Ben and Barnabas in a cage!

  Picking up the scent of the men standing beside the basket-work cages, Tattoo could tell as clearly as Firedrake what they were like. Such men smelled the same everywhere, as if cruelty grew from their skin like a poisonous fungus. But the worst of it was that they aroused that cruelty even in the heart of a silver dragon. Oh, the wish to simply burn all human darkness away! Sorrel felt it like a fit of shivering in Firedrake’s body as the dragon swooped down on the poachers. She called his name soothingly, to keep him from losing himself in his anger, and was relieved to see the poachers running under the trees for shelter, leaving their prisoners behind without a fight. Firedrake had never yet killed, and there were terrible stories about what killing did to a silver dragon.

  Tattoo had no brownie on his back to warn him of the anger in his heart. Sorrel tried to call him back, but the thrill of aggression flaring up in him made the blood rush in his ears and deafened him to her voice. Tattoo followed the poachers down to the beach, and Catcher and his men escaped only because they knew their way, and the trees were obstacles to the dragon in his flight. Their boat was already moving out to sea when Tattoo, snorting, broke out of the forest. Presumably that saved their lives. He breathed fire after them, and when the blue flames reached the boat’s hull it sank into the waves with the poachers, as suddenly as if dragon-fire had made it forget to float. In all the excitement neither Tattoo nor Catcher and Kamaharan felt surprised. Those two were the only ones to save themselves by jumping over the rail. Catcher was such a poor swimmer that he clung to Kamaharan, and that was all that prevented him from going under.

  Tattoo saw the two of them swim away, but he didn’t breathe any more fire. He stood on the beach and felt his own anger like lava in his veins, so hot and burning that he thought he would be singed by his own flames. The young dragon had never known anything like it before, and he didn’t like what he was feeling. That wish for destruction, taking pleasure in the fear of others… yes, it was pleasure that he felt! In spite of his youth, Tattoo knew himself too well to deny it. It made him shudder, and he was a stranger to himself for the first time in his life. When he finally turned around to rejoin the others, it was with a longing in his heart to have a brownie, the way Firedrake had Sorrel. Or a boy like the one for whom Firedrake had flown all this way, and about whom he talked to Tattoo with so much love.

  While Tattoo was breathing fire after the poachers, Firedrake had already landed among the griffins’ trees, and Sorrel had started opening the basketwork cages. Ben didn’t want to let go of her again when she set him free, and Barnabas shook her paw so vigorously that she worried about her furry fingers, but worst of all was the troll. Hothbrodd tossed Sorrel so high into the air that she was almost bitten by a pit viper! Only Twigleg said thank you in his own very civilised way with a deep bow, first to Sorrel and then to Firedrake. She had to admit that she was almost as relieved to see the homunculus intact as to find Ben and Barnabas safe and well. Brownies don’t forgive easily, and Sorrel still held it against Twigleg that he had once served one of Firedrake’s worst enemies. But it’s his size, Sorrel, she told herself as the homunculus thanked her with another bow. That’s what it is, yes. These tiny little creatures just steal into your heart!

  That, however, didn’t apply to rats. Sorrel left it to Twigleg to set Lola free. It’s better for rats and brownies to watch one another from a safe difference. How about monkeys? No. Definitely not. Sorrel didn’t notice the second human boy until Winston was enthusiastically shaking Twigleg’s tiny hand, and of course he was staring at her and Firedrake with as much astonishment as Ben had done at their first meeting! Thanks a million. As if one human boy in a brownie’s life wasn’t enough! When Tattoo came back it was to be feared that Winston’s brown eyes would pop out of his head with awe.

  As soon as the monkeys were out of the baskets, they disappeared up the trees.

  ‘Hey, how about a polite thank you?’ Sorrel called after them. ‘And where does that crazy rat think she’s going?’ she asked Ben when she spotted Lola on Patah’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh no, Lola is far from crazy,’ said Barnabas, stretching his legs, which were stiff from his imprisonment. ‘She and Shrii’s monkeys are following the macaques who supervised trade with the poachers. Let’s hope they catch up with them before news of the dragons who set us free gets around this island!’

  ‘Monkeys trading with poachers?’ Sorrel went over to the dish full of treasure, with the statue of the griffin watching over it. ‘What do they want with gold and seashells?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Barnabas evasively, ‘that’s a peculiarity of the monkeys on this island.’ He glanced at Ben, who was standing between Firedrake and Tattoo, with Twigleg on his shoulder. All the anxiety had left his face, and he looked as happy as he did only when the dragon was near him.

  ‘But how did you find your way here?’ Barnabas heard him ask, while he stroked Firedrake’s silver scales, as if he couldn’t believe that the dragon had really come to his rescue. Winston was standing at the respectful distance of a few paces away from him, looking at the dragons as if all the dreams he’d ever had were coming true.

  ‘Tattoo?’ said Ben. ‘That’s not really a dragon name, is it?’

  ‘His real name is Lhag Pa,’ said Firedrake, while Tattoo responded to Winston’s gaze. The younger dragon seemed to be visibly enjoying the boy’s admiration. Well, he deserved it. He was a magnificent sight.

  Barnabas sighed.

  ‘What’s the matter, Greenbloom?’ Sorrel asked, pushing him in the chest with her paw. ‘You don’t look like a man who’s just been saved from a gang of animal-catchers and poachers. More like someone who – what is it you humans say? – who’s jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.’

  By way of answering her, Barnabas heaved another deep sigh. A deep and extremely worried sigh.

  ‘Sorrel,’ he whispered to the brownie girl. ‘I need your help. The two dragons must leave this island again as quickly as possible!’

  Sorrel never got around to asking why.

  ‘Leave it?’ Firedrake laid his head on her shoulder. ‘What’s the hurry, Barnabas?’

  Dragons have very keen hearing. Barnabas cursed himself for being such a fool as to forget it.

  ‘If you’re thinking of setting off, then you must have the phoenix feather already?’ Firedrake looked from Barnabas to Ben. ‘I can’t forget how desperate Ànemos was. I’m sure you’d never leave the island without the feather, would you?’

  Ben avoided the dragon’s glance. He thought he saw irony in Firedrake’s eyes. And even worse, disappointment.

  ‘It does seem to be a dangerous island,’ F
iredrake continued. ‘A kraken told us about the lion-birds. I assume they regard this island,’ and here he looked at the statue of the griffin, ‘as their property? What a good thing it isn’t their feathers that you need. Those griffins sound very unpleasant.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the phoenix feather! Of course. Yes! Yes, we have it.’ Barnabas did his best, but he was only making matters worse. He was hopelessly bad at telling lies. His voice died away as Firedrake gave him a stern and far from friendly look.

  Then Firedrake looked at his dragon rider. Ben felt like sinking into the ground, where he would be invisible.

  ‘How about the truth, Ben?’ asked the dragon. ‘Does a dragon rider lie to his dragon? And what’s the matter with the rest of you? Barnabas! Hothbrodd! Twigleg!’ He scrutinised them one by one.

  ‘Dammit all!’ growled the troll. ‘That’s enough bad acting! Yes, there are griffins here, and we need one of their sun-feathers for the Pegasus eggs. That’s why Barnabas is in such a hurry for you two to leave the island, and fast! Dragons and griffins… you know about that…’

  Firedrake stood up very straight. His whole body was taut. Tattoo looked at him anxiously.

  ‘So you all lied to me?’ Firedrake sounded so hurt that Ben would have liked to crawl back into his basketwork cage. ‘What were you planning to do? Let the Pegasus foals die rather than ask me for help? And you, dragon rider? Wouldn’t you have given me a chance of protecting you, even though I gave you my scale?’

  Ben had never seen Firedrake in such an aggressive mood before, but the dragon was still feeling the darkness that the poachers had aroused in him, and the lies told by Ben and Barnabas did nothing to cast any light into it.

  ‘The monkeys stole the scale from me!’ cried Ben. ‘But even if I’d still had it – how could I want you to come here? We all wanted to protect you. Believe me! You haven’t seen the griffins! They’re terrible. Except for one of them…’

  One whom they wouldn’t be able to save without the help of the dragons. But much as Ben liked Shrii, even for him he couldn’t allow Firedrake to put himself in danger. Not to save Shrii, or the Pegasus foals, not even for himself! He loved the dragon too much for that.

  Ben felt tears coming to his eyes. And knew that Firedrake saw them.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ said Barnabas. ‘I persuaded Ben to lie to you. There’s almost no deeper enmity between fabulous creatures that the hostility of griffins and dragons!’

  ‘But they’ll defeat them!’ Winston went to stand between Firedrake and Tattoo, and looked admiringly from one to the other. ‘Just look at them! They’ll defeat Kraa and set Shrii free! How can you doubt it?’

  ‘Thank you!’ Tattoo bowed his head to Winston. ‘Spoken like a dragon rider.’

  ‘But it’s not just Kraa!’ cried Ben. ‘There are seven griffins, Firedrake, and only two of you. And then there are all the monkeys who serve Kraa and his jackal scorpions!’

  Winston swallowed.

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ he murmured. ‘Forget what I said! I was only thinking of Shrii! And you chased Catcher and his men away so easily…’ He fell silent, and cast Ben a remorseful glance, while Berulu stared at the dragons with his big, round eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Winston. ‘They’re right. You must go.’

  The two dragons exchanged a glance.

  Neither Ben nor Barnabas liked it.

  ‘I entirely agree with you,’ Tattoo told Firedrake. ‘All this sounds as if they’d be lost without our help.’

  ‘Exactly. Entirely lost. And I’m sure you’d be very disappointed if you had to set off for home right away, wouldn’t you?’ added Firedrake, ignoring the dismayed glances of his friends.

  Tattoo nodded firmly.

  ‘Just a moment!’ cried Sorrel. ‘Look at their beaks!’ She indicated the griffin heads in the trees. ‘And their claws!’ She pointed to the griffin statue. ‘Claws and paws! As if just one of those wasn’t enough for them!’

  ‘And don’t forget the snaky tails,’ Twigleg said, from Ben’s shoulder. ‘And those jackal scorpions are really horrible! Lola will say the same!’

  ‘That’s true! It’s noble of you both to offer us your help. But you – can’t – stay – here!’ said Barnabas firmly. ‘And Ben and Winston shouldn’t really be here either, Firedrake! If you don’t want to leave because of the griffins, then at least do it to get the two boys to safety.’

  But now it was Ben and Winston who took offence. Ben went to Firedrake’s side, and Winston instinctively went over to Tattoo.

  ‘If Firedrake wants to stay,’ said Ben, ‘then his dragon rider stays too, of course. And he’s right. We can’t simply give up on the Pegasus foals. Or Shrii, either!’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Winston, although Berulu looked far less convinced. When Tattoo gently laid his nose on Winston’s shoulder, the boy looked up in delight.

  ‘I could do with a dragon rider myself!’ Tattoo whispered. ‘My attacking instincts run away with me very easily. I think a dragon rider is the only thing to be done about that.’

  Winston was so happy that his knees almost gave way. ‘Of course,’ he stammered. ‘Of course. I’d love to try. I’m sure Ben can give me some useful tips.’

  Firedrake looked at Barnabas with amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Okay,’ growled Hothbrodd. ‘Then that’s all settled. Can we get away from this clearing now? I’m tired,’ he said, pointing to the griffin faces on the trees, ‘of having those things staring down at me. Or do the rest of you want to hang about until the living models turn up?’

  No, none of them wanted that, although Barnabas was still looking very concerned.

  ‘The tree-man is right, fully-grown Greenbloom,’ squawked Me-Rah. ‘You must leave this place. I can take you to a tree that will protect you. No monkey on this island dares to approach its branches!’

  ‘Liberty cap mushrooms!’ Sorrel whispered to Hothbrodd. ‘Is that the lost parrot from the birds’ temple?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ grunted Hothbrodd. ‘But a tree to protect us sounds good. And I’ve lost the knife I use for carving. I don’t plan on going home until I get that knife back.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Whispering Tree

  Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful,

  just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser

  than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when

  we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the

  quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve

  an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to

  trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing

  except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

  Hermann Hesse, Trees

  The tree known on Pulau Bulu as the Whispering Tree grew on the banks of a broad river flowing through jungle so dense that many of its inhabitants had never seen the sky. That didn’t bother a parrot like Me-Rah in the slightest, of course, but soon even Hothbrodd could hardly make his way through the thickets, and in the end Firedrake and Tattoo were carrying the whole party on their backs, with Me-Rah following. The two dragons were gliding so low over the sluggishly flowing water that crocodiles snapped at their shadows, and flocks of birds scattered like spray. The trees on the bank, often leaning so far out over the grey-green water that their leaves drifted on the ripples like green hair, seemed to raise their trunks to let Firedrake and Tattoo pass. Butterflies settled on their shimmering scales, adorning them with even brighter colours than Kraa’s palace nest. Innumerable birds filled the humid, sultry air with their twittering, and snakes and lizards darted out their forked tongues from the branches in welcome.

  ‘Whatever the griffins think of dragons,’ Barnabas whispered to Ben as he clung to the spines on Firedrake’s back, ‘the inhabitants of this island give them a very warm welcome!’

  They all knew they had reached their destination even be
fore Me-Rah came down in the mighty tree that covered the water of the river before them with a carpet of blossom. The trumpet-shaped flowers hanging from the spreading branches were so pale a green that they could hardly be told from the hand-sized leaves. Inside, however, the calyxes were bright orange, and flocks of humming birds and sun-birds hovered around them to taste the pollen. It clung to their beaks like gold dust, and even the crocodiles drifting in the river below the tree had pollen on their backs.

  The dragons landed only a few metres away from them, but even the huge reptiles retreated from Firedrake and Tattoo with as much respect as all the other creatures they had met.

  ‘Twigleg, can you explain why the inhabitants of Pulau Bulu are so respectful to the dragons?’ Barnabas asked as they climbed off Firedrake’s back. ‘I admit that I’m surprised.’

  ‘It’s not only humans who tell tales about dragons, Greenbloom!’ called a voice from a fig tree, before Twigleg could answer. TerTaWa was sitting in the branches with Kupo, Patah, and Shrii’s other macaques. ‘Many of us have dreamed that one of them might find the way to our island. And now here are two at the same time!’

  ‘What about the black macaques?’ called Winston. ‘Did they get away?’

  ‘Get away? Huh!’ Lola was swinging from a liana as naturally as if she had been born on Pulau Bulu and not in a barn in Schleswig-Holstein. ‘We caught them all and put them in the baskets they were going to sell us in.’

  ‘And then we left them in the nests that Tchraee destroyed!’ twittered Kupo.

  ‘Yes. That was TerTaWa’s idea,’ grumbled Patah. ‘I wanted to feed them to the crocodiles, but I guess the gibbon was right. Kraa would probably take revenge on Shrii for that.’

  ‘He certainly would,’ agreed Lola, landing in front of Winston’s sneakers.