The Dragon in the Driveway (13 page)

Emmy had gone still and silent beneath her shroud of chains. Her eyes were dull, and her lustrous blue-green scales had turned a milky gray. Daisy stared at Emmy, her face twisting in misery while the rest of her stayed frozen.

St. George muttered something. Then he looked up from the book, held out both arms, and said, “The pickax. Give it to me.
Now, boy!
”

Jesse, fighting his body every inch of the way, offered the pickax to the Dragon Slayer.

St. George took the pickax from him and held it up in both hands, lifting it high over the open book. His entire body started to tremble. Beads of sweat broke out on his pale brow. Then he walked over to Emmy.
Whoosh!
He swung the pickax high above his head. Emmy cringed and squeezed her eyes shut. The torchlight glinted on the one golden prong of the pickax as it came down on the dragon. Jesse and Daisy both cried out.

But the pickax froze inches from Emmy’s body. St. George’s initial look of irritation quickly turned to fear as the pickax exploded into flames.

Emmy lifted her head. Her eyes, reflecting the flames, shone brightly as she watched the fire burn.

Then she said, “Make a wish!” and blew out the fire with a mighty breath.

The hobgoblins let out a collective sigh of satisfaction. “Ahhhhhhh!”

From its handle to its two sharp prongs, the pickax had turned to dazzling solid gold.

St. George grunted as the now truly golden pickax dragged him backward, away from Emmy, and over to a mound of rocks in the corner. There the pickax arced high in the air and came down hard on a large rock. As it struck the stone, a deafening sound like a gong rang out and echoed through the chamber.

St. George let out an agonized
“Noooooooo!”

Again the pickax swung back and this time came down on a smaller rock. A higher note sounded. The pickax swung back and came down on a third rock, and a fourth, and a fifth, and on and on, as the melody built and swelled and filled the underground cavern. Whether St. George liked it or not, the pickax was picking out a tune, playing this pile of ordinary, dusty rocks as if they were some sort of crazy natural xylophone. The song it played was haunting and sad and heartbreakingly beautiful.

The hobgoblins stirred and sat up, listening to the music and wagging their heads, some of
them even beginning to hum along. Emmy’s body, beneath the chains, swayed. “It’s the willow song,” she said with pride. “I love it!”

The next moment, a great hoarse bellow echoed down the tunnel. “We’re coming, rough gems of the earth! We’re coming, you darling little axey-waxey, you! We’re on our way! Mummy’s back!”

The next instant, Her Royal Lowness herself, Queen Hap of the Hobgoblin Hive of Hobhorn, came crashing into the chamber, robe held high above her regal bowlegged knees.

The hobgoblins scrambled down onto their knees and touched their foreheads to the ground.

Jesse ran over to Daisy. “The Golden Pickax freed the queen!” he cried.

Daisy took a tentative step toward Jesse and cried out, “Me too!”

“What about me three?” said Emmy in a small voice.

Daisy and Jesse ran to the dragon and tried to pull the chain off her, but it was too heavy.

“How come the Golden Pickax didn’t free Emmy, too?” Daisy asked.

“St. George probably put a superstrong spell on the chain,” said Jesse.

“Did not!” Emmy said with a pout. “It’s because
it’s stinky old iron! Dragons
hate
iron. It stinks!”

“I’m sorry, Em,” said Daisy, touching her gently through the chain, “but don’t worry. We’ll get it off you as fast as we can.”

“Maybe Her Royal Lowness can help,” said Jesse, waving to get the queen’s attention. But her moss-green eyes were scanning the cavern.

“There it is! Mummy’s pet!” the queen cried, lighting on the pickax. Running over to a cringing St. George, she yanked the Golden Pickax from his lifeless grip.

Just then, the cavern filled with a rhythmic
hut-hut-hut
like the steady beat of marching feet. Seconds later, seven hobgoblins strutted proudly into view from the nearby tunnel.

“It’s the faithful band of rebels!” Daisy exclaimed happily.

Gone were the orange jumpsuits. The hobgoblins now wore stout plates of armor and bore all manner of medieval weaponry: pikes and halberds, lances and flails, and maces and morning stars, bristling with angry spikes.

“We’ll take it from here, Georgie Porgie!” the queen said to the cowering Slayer. Her Royal Lowness hefted the Golden Pickax to play the rocks. As the music swelled, it began to take on an uptempo beat. More and more armed hobgoblins poured
forth from the other tunnels, all armored and carrying weaponry. Between the music of the Golden Pickax and the darkly muttering hobgoblin horde, the cavern was thrumming with noise and excitement.

With a final, crashing chord, the queen lowered the pickax. A hush fell over the cavern. As the last note of music faded, Her Royal Lowness went over to Emmy and got down on both knees. She reverently placed the Golden Pickax before her and touched her forehead to the ground.

“Awwwwww!” The hobgoblins sighed happily to one another.

Rising, Her Royal Lowness said to Jesse and Daisy, “Stand aside, Upper Realmers!”

The cousins obeyed, backing away from Emmy.

Then the hobgoblin queen placed one tip of the Golden Pickax to the chain. Like a lit fuse, a flame traveled along the chain and, link by link, sizzled it to white ash in seconds.

Emmy rose up and shook the ashes from her scales. “Thank you, Queenie-weenie!” she said.

“We are honored to serve!” said the queen. Then she spat on the tip of the pickax and polished it on the sleeve of her robe. “Ah, we make a fine team, together with our axey-waxey, do we not?” she said with a happy grin.

The hobgoblins erupted into a cheer that settled into a chant: “Hob! Gob! Hob! Gob! Hobbledy-gobbledy-hob-gob-gob!” as hundreds of hobgoblin heads bobbed along with their weapons.

“I have a feeling the tide just officially turned,” Daisy said to Jesse.

Jesse frowned. In the hubbub he had lost sight of St. George. “Wait a minute!” Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Where is the Slayer!”

The hobgoblins stopped chanting and looked around, snuffling and muttering among themselves.

“I see him! I see him! I see the bad man! Over there!” Emmy shouted, bouncing up and down and pointing.

Daisy caught a glimpse of red and white underneath the ramp. “He’s beneath the ramp!” she called out.

“Seize him!” shouted the queen.

Growling, the hobgoblins rushed at St. George, brandishing their weapons and chanting, “Hob! Gob! Hob! Gob!” as they swarmed over him. But St. George picked them up and plucked them off him like so many burrs. Then he scrambled onto the ramp and ran to the top. There he raised his arms over his head and brought forth more of the same stomach-wrenching light from his fingertips. An
avalanche of rocks came crashing down around him, blocking the way out.

The hobgoblins howled in outrage.

“Oh, no! We’re trapped again!” Jesse cried out.

“Don’t fret, lambies!” yelled the queen. “You can’t trap a hobgoblin underground. There are other ways out of here. Follow us.”

“But we can’t leave without the book!” Jesse yelled.

Yet another wave of that foul light flashed. This time rocks showered down and buried the big book in a mountain of rubble.

Daisy swallowed her nausea and waved away the dust. “
Now
what?” she asked.

“Hobbies!” shouted the queen. “Smite the Slayer and make him squeal!”

The hobgoblins let out a rock-rumbling roar. From where Jesse and Daisy were standing, they had a clear view of the hobgoblins as they rushed up the ramp toward the Slayer. St. George pulled out a broad sword from a sheath on his hip. Its jeweled hilt sparkled in the torchlight. St. George set to slashing at the hobgoblins as if they were a field of overgrown weeds.

“Poor hobbies!” said Daisy, turning away.

“Nonsense!” boomed Her Royal Lowness. “Hobbies love a good
clash
! Let’s leave them to it.
You and the draggy-wagon, come with us!”

“But the book!” Jesse and Daisy cried.

“The book? The book? Is that all you Upper Realmers care about, some book? Can’t you see that our stalwart hobbies have their hands full at the present?” Queen Hap croaked.

It looked, indeed, as if every last hobgoblin were needed to bring down St. George.

“But we can’t leave it buried here!” Daisy shouted over the din.

“We
promised
!” Jesse said.

“Leave it you must,” bellowed the queen.

That was when Emmy stepped forward and said, “I think I can! I think I can!”

Suddenly Emmy’s irises began to spin like a set of brilliant green pinwheels. Her nostrils gave off three puffs of peppery pinkish smoke, which rose up and radiated outward, filling the cavern with a bright, hot, pulsing light. The very next instant, the rocks and rubble rose up into the air and moved off to the side as if an invisible hand were rearranging them. In seconds, the book was completely uncovered.

One of the hobgoblins broke from the rear ranks and ran over to the book. He climbed on top of it and dusted it off with Daisy’s bandanna.

“I knew I could!” Emmy said proudly. “Levitating spell. I just deuced it.”

“Aced it,” Jesse corrected.

“Emmy, that was
brilliant
!” said Daisy.

Emmy looked modest. “I am a very practical dragon sometimes! Climb up on the big book, Jesse and Daisy. We need to get out now. Climb on, please, welcome aboard, and thank you for flying the big book.”

“You want us to climb on top of the book?” Jesse shouted.

“And the book’s gonna fly?” Daisy added.

Emmy nodded vigorously. “Quickly, now, please, thank you. Her Royal Lowness is waiting.”

The queen was tapping her big wedge of a foot impatiently. The hobgoblin with the purple bandanna hopped off the book and gestured wildly at the battle. The fray had worked its way down from the ramp and was swarming across the cavern toward them. The hobgoblin knelt before them and made a stirrup of his hands.

“We have no time to lose, lambies!” said the queen.

“What about St. George?” Jesse asked.

St. George’s sword slashed in all directions, raising sparks as it struck against hobgoblin armor.

He seemed to be holding his own as he headed toward them.

“Don’t give it another thought,” said the queen, grinning like a jack-o’-lantern. “Our hobbies are just playing with him.”

Jesse and Daisy let the hobgoblin boost them onto the book.

The next instant, the book rose up and hovered in the air. “We’re floating!” said Jesse.

“Hang on!” said Emmy.

“Follow us,” said the queen, heading for one of the old mine tunnels.

The book moved forward and Jesse and Daisy nearly tumbled off it.

“Don’t worry,” said Emmy. “I will run behind you and catch you if you fall.”

The cousins grabbed hold of each other as the book scooted forward. It stopped, then started and stopped, as if it were testing its brakes. Finally, it zipped over to the tunnel and dipped slightly, like a raft joining the current of a stream.

The queen jogged just ahead of them. She held her robes high above her knees while her torch-bearing attendant kept pace with her. Emmy brought up the rear, casting an occasional glance over her shoulder toward the cavern. Gradually, the din of the battle began to fade behind them and
was replaced by the soft
whooshing
of the big book as it wove through the tunnels that made up the vast underground maze of the Lower Realm.

At last, they came to a dead end. A soft golden-blue light shone from above. Jesse and Daisy looked up and saw a thicket of bushes stirring above them in a gentle breeze. Compared to the inferno they had left behind, the scene above was peaceful and quiet.

“This way out!” said the queen with a single upward stab of her hand. “Mind the prickers on those berry bushes.”

“Will you be going back?” Daisy asked the queen.

“Of course we will!” she said. “Can’t leave all the fun to our hobbies, can we?”

“Watch out for St. George,” Jesse said. “He’s a very dirty fighter.”

“Nobody fights as dirty as a hobgoblin,” she said with a roguish glint in her magnificent moss-green eyes.

“What will you do with him after you’ve defeated him?” asked Daisy.

“Trap him,” growled the queen, “like a bug in amber.”

“Will your hobbies be all right?” Jesse asked.

“They will be fine. I’m about to toss in a little
shake-up, Queen Hap–style,” she said with a wink.

“Good-bye, Your Lowness,” said Jesse. “And thanks for helping us.”

“Thank
you
for finding our Golden Pickax,” she said. “Good-bye, draggy-wagon, and good-bye, Keepers. We have no doubt we will be seeing you again in the Lower Realm someday … when the time is right.”

“Thank you, you’re welcome, come again soon, don’t forget to write!” said Emmy.

Their last glimpse of the Lower Realm was of the queen’s hobgoblin escort waving a wistful farewell to them with the purple bandanna.

The next minute, the book whisked them out of the hole. Pricker bushes snagged their clothing as they surged upward into the fresh air. Emmy climbed out after them, stopping to grab a handful of berries to cram into her bright pink mouth.

Aboveground, darkness had begun to fall. The Deep Woods throbbed with the reassuringly friendly sound of peepers.

Jesse looked at his watch. It was 8:20 in the evening. “Time sure flies in the Lower Realm,” he said.

“Books do, too,” Daisy couldn’t resist adding.

Reluctantly tearing herself away from the fat, ripe berries, Emmy ran to catch up with the book as
it bore the cousins through the Deep Woods. The trees leaned to either side to make way for them, and it wasn’t long before they broke out of the woods and into the pasture.

“I think I’m going to call it the Hobhorn from now on,” said Daisy, with a backward glance at the mountain previously known as Old Mother. The waterfall was swollen from the recent rains and it gushed down the rock face like molten silver beneath the rising moon. “And she’s crying buckets, just like a real live hobgoblin. Only a little less muddy!”