02 Unicorn Rider (7 page)

Maybe he could make a fresh start.

Preferably, he thought, in a place with no dragons.

***

After Tidal left Hawk, he returned to the beach. His fishing boat had been destroyed in the tidal wave that had hit the village of Landmark two months ago, but he had spent most days since then working on building a new boat, and it was finally ready for its maiden voyage.

It was a fine boat, good and strong and watertight; but most importantly, it was a small boat that could fit only one person. Tidal didn’t want people coming out on the boat with him, and making it too small was a perfect excuse for not letting them.

He launched the boat into the slopping waters of the Everlasting Ocean. The sky was already turning purple; it would only be a matter of a few hours now until the daylight had completely evaporated, plunging Tidal and his little boat into complete darkness.

Tidal didn’t mind. He had no need to fear the dark.

He knew exactly what was out there in the ocean, just below the surface.

The water plopped and gulped as he started to row away from the shore. If anybody had seen him they might have thought he was going to do some night fishing, except he had no rod, line, net, or lobster cages with him. He tried whistling to himself, but the sound was rather lonely and sad, so instead he rowed in silence.

After half an hour he stopped and drew in the oars. He sat in the middle of his little boat, and felt the surge and flow of the waves as they bobbed him up and down.

‘Hello?’ he said.

A series of bubbles rose to the surface of the ocean, and he caught sight of a flicker of silver scales in the failing light.

‘I know you’re out there, you’re too big to hide.’

There was a low hiss, and another cluster of bubbles popped. ‘The ocean is a big place,’ a guttural, slithering voice said. There was another momentary glimmer of scales, very close to the boat. ‘Why have you come here?’

‘I thought it would be safer talking to you here. Cloud’s already suspicious of me since Glass told him she saw a snake in the water.’

‘Snake?’ the voice chuckled damply. ‘Snake? I am more than a snake, Tidal.’

‘Whatever. Did you see what happened today?’

‘I saw.’

‘Did you see how Nim humiliated me, rushing to my rescue like that?’

‘I saw.’

‘He makes me so mad. He thinks he’s so special since he found that armour and that dragon.’

‘Perhaps he is.’

‘He is?’ Tidal was crestfallen. He hadn’t expected the serpent to side with Nimbus.

‘But you found me, so that makes you special too.’

‘You’re right. But it’s different. He gets all the people looking up to him, while I have to sneak out here on my own. He gets to be brave in front of Sky.’

‘Ah yes, Sky. The pretty one you are spending so much time with. Why does she matter so much?’

It was hard to tell in the fading light, but Tidal flushed red with embarrassment. ‘She doesn’t,’ he lied.

‘You want her to respect you?’

‘Of course. I want everyone to respect me. They’ve always thought of me as the stupid one. They never give me any credit for being stronger and faster and a better fisherman than anyone else my age.’

‘You will certainly grow up to be a very strong and admired man. I do not see the same future for Nimbus.’

‘You don’t?’

The water lapped around the hull of the boat, sucking and squelching unnaturally. Tidal was overcome with the terrible sensation that the ocean was a living creature that at any second would pull him down into dark oblivion. ‘Nimbus is not strong like you,’ the voice said. ‘Sooner or later he will die.’

‘But I don’t want Nim to die!’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘It would make it easier to impress Sky. Without Nimbus to protect her she would need to look to someone else. And you are so strong and fast, and such a good fisherman.’

‘I don’t want Nim to die,’ Tidal said, disliking the way his own words were being used to mock him.

‘Then what do you want?’

‘I just wish that he wasn’t always the centre of attention.’

‘That’s all?’

Tidal let his head sink. ‘No. Not really. That wouldn’t be enough.’

‘And what is enough?’

‘I wish I had been the one who found Cumulo. I wish I had become the Wing Warrior.’

‘That is a brave wish.’

‘I’m not a coward.’

‘I know.’

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Eventually Tidal picked up his oars. ‘I have to go home.’

‘I think you should stay.’

Tidal’s oars splashed in the water. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said.

‘I could make you stay. I could eat your boat right out from underneath you. It would barely be more than a mouthful. And I could snap you up in just one bite.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

‘Because I want the same thing you want. Help. We could help each other.’

‘I don’t want your help.’

‘Yes you do. You want me to turn you into a hero.’

‘How would you do that?’ Tidal tried not to sound as interested as he really was.

‘I am a very powerful, ancient creature. Only Mother’s age exceeded mine, and she is now no more. I have slept longer than most things have breathed, and even the combined might of all the realms was not enough to kill me.’

‘And you would help me to become a hero?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you want in return?’

The only response was the slurping of the water around the boat, and a distant splash.

The horizon stretched on forever; untouched, and far beyond reach.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun had finally set on the terrible bloodshed of the day, dipping the world into a mystical darkness that only the bravest villagers would dare venture out in. Peculiar darkling creatures – snuffling, snorting, foraging beasts – ambled through the streets, scrabbled hungrily at bolted doors, and watched the glimmering candlelight in the windows of the houses. In his safely padlocked stable, Onyx paced agitatedly, all too aware of the scent of alien monstrosities lurking in the gloom.

In the village square, Cumulo stood motionless, watching the magical things as they hunted and fought and snapped and squealed and bleated. The night–time world was alive with animals that were born of magic, just as he was; but he was not a part of that world. He was Cumulo, the last of the dragons, the spirit of eleven great titans in one body. He was bred to assist in defending the peoples of the realm. It was his destiny to be ever vigilant and strong. He could not run and play with these lesser creatures, even if his heart yearned to do so.

He hunkered down and rested his head on his claws. Pixies danced in the still air, giggling and chasing each other and leaving trails of sparkling dust behind them. In one of the gardens, two gnomes wrestled over a fat worm; and the peculiar, lumbering thing known as a boggart rummaged in the hedge, perhaps looking for a juicy rabbit or hedgehog for its dinner.

In the far distance, where the curve of the earth hid everything from view, a wolf howled at the moon. The sound of that desolate cry filled Cumulo with a sadness far greater than he ever would have thought possible.

Today he had killed a creature of magic: The thing the people of the village had called a wyvern. It had looked like a dragon in many ways, with its scales, claws, and sharp snout. The people had cheered when he killed it. They cheered because they had feared it, and now it was dead.

Some people – people like Hawk – feared Cumulo too. Would those people have cheered any less if he had been the broken, lifeless body lying on the beach?

In the garden, the boggart chuckled excitedly as a rabbit dashed out of the hedge, colliding with the two squabbling gnomes. There was a mad flurry of activity as seven or eight different legends all scrabbled to get hold of the rabbit. In the ensuing chaos of flailing arms and legs, and biting teeth, the rabbit nimbly ducked away down a hole in the ground. The boggart howled, and jammed its head into the burrow in a last desperate attempt to grab a tasty dinner; but luckily for the rabbit, the boggart’s flabby tummy stopped it from pursuing any farther.

That night, apart from a certain amount of dirt, the boggart ate nothing.

The pixies circled each other one more time, and then flittered away with the buzz of tiny wings.

Cumulo snorted smoke out of his nostrils.

They were magical creatures, and he was a magical creature; but if there was a war, he would have to kill them.

Even if he didn’t want to.

***

At the same time a boggart was sitting beside a rabbit burrow, spitting out clods of mud, Nimbus was sitting at his kitchen table drinking milk and eating toast. He had discarded the heavy Wing Warrior armour in favour of a simple shirt and breeches, but he was far too preoccupied to take much joy from his few moments of comfort.

Glass, who was absolutely exhausted after the adventures of the day, had been put to bed; and now she was no longer around to be frightened, Nimbus was able to quiz his father about the wyvern. As he asked his questions, his father would occasionally glance out of the window, as though he expected to see something horrific there.

‘So what were they if they weren’t wyverns?’ Nimbus asked, breaking the crust off his toast and just eating the middle part.

‘I don’t know,’ his father said.

‘You’ve never seen anything like them before?’

‘No.’

Nimbus sipped his milk. There was something humming to itself just outside the window, probably a brownie. The house had been infested with the annoying little things, and they often kept Nimbus up all night with their singing.

‘So,’ he said, ‘if you’ve never seen them before, how do you know they aren’t wyverns? I mean, Leaf showed me a drawing in this storybook she had at the library, and the thing I killed today looked just the same.’

‘I already told you, wyverns don’t exist.’

‘But magic is coming back into the world. We’ve got brownies in the garden. Why couldn’t a new magical creature come into existence?’

‘Have you read any of the books I asked Leaf to loan you?’

‘I read a few pages, but most of those books are really long, and they use really big words.’

‘Well, if you had bothered to read some of those really big words, then you’d know how much magic, how much belief, it takes to create something new. The first legends came out of the true magic, the magic of nature, the kind of magic that just doesn’t exist any more. Even if every person in this land with magical power was to concentrate on a new creature, they wouldn’t be able to produce something as large and mean as that... that wyvern creature.’

‘So maybe they’re an old thing, we just haven’t ever seen one before.’

‘Not possible. Cumulo didn’t know about them, which means the dragons never knew about them.’

‘So what?’ Nimbus drained the last of his milk, and picked at the crust of his toast.

‘Dragons were masters of the sky, there were no winged creatures that were not known to them. These wyverns could not have remained hidden.’

‘So, what you’re saying is, they aren’t new, but they aren’t old either?’

His father grinned. ‘Quite a puzzle, isn’t it?’

At that moment, Nimbus’s mother came in from Glass’s room. She filled the kettle, and put it on the stove. She didn’t speak.

The brownie under the window stopped humming.

The room suddenly seemed very small and uncomfortable.

‘I’m going to bed,’ Nimbus said. The words echoed awkwardly in the stony silence. ‘Goodnight.’

He left the room as quietly as he could, pulling the door closed behind him. Even then – even when he shut himself in his bedroom and put the pillow over his head – he was able to hear what his mother and father were saying.

 ‘I suppose this is my fault too, is it?’ his father said. He sounded tired and old.

‘The wyverns?’ his mother said. ‘No. But what happened to Glass... How could you?’

‘I did what I thought was right.’

‘You took her out into those woods, knowing how dangerous they are.’

‘I had to.’

‘She could have died.’

‘And if she hadn’t been there Nimbus certainly would have.’

‘Yes, and we all know why that is.’

‘I am trying, Strata.’ There was just a hint of desperation in his father’s tone.

‘But you’re failing.’

‘What more do you want from me? I failed, yes. I made a mistake by not training Nimbus earlier. I thought I was protecting him and he died, and who knows if what Cumulo brought back to life is still our son or something that just looks like him? I have to live with myself, knowing things would have worked out differently if I’d been stronger. But I’m doing my best to put things right. Nimbus can barely stand to be around me at the moment, but I’m still trying.’

There was a drawn–out silence before his mother spoke again. ‘I think you’re too late.’

‘So, who’s failing our children now?’

‘Glass needs help. Real help. What are you going to do about it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You need to do something.’

‘I can’t be away from Nimbus, not now. Not until I’ve finished his training.’

‘Nimbus has the dragon. What does Glass have?’

‘I can’t be there for Glass.’ There was a heavy slamming sound, like a fist being pounded on the tabletop. ‘You know the vision I had when I was still young. The vision of a Wing Warrior imprisoned in darkness. I cannot take any chances if that was a vision of Nimbus’s future. I have to be close to him so I can protect him.’

Nimbus sat up in bed. The dark of night stole quietly into his room, wrapping everything in its purple gloom. This was the first he had heard of his father’s vision.

Why hadn’t he been told?

He caught sight of his reflection in the full–length mirror that loomed imposingly in the corner of his room.

The monstrous mahogany–framed looking–glass had been a gift from Lord Citrine himself, who had declared that if the great Wing Warrior insisted on living at home with his parents, rather than taking up residence in Crystal Shine as was only proper, then he should at least be able to make sure he looked presentable before going out in public.