Septimus Heap 3 - Physik (15 page)

In a moment the RatStranglers had surrounded the kennel, banging their lids and chanting. Spit Fyre snorted in dismay. No dragon likes to be surrounded, especially by a raucous mob banging lids and screaming. Dragons generally have a surprisingly subtle ear for music and enjoy the finer kinds of classical music and plainsong; indeed, many an isolated monastery has been surprised to find a dragon regularly turning up to listen to the evening's Gregorian chant. Spit Fyre was no exception.

The banging made his delicate dragon ears hurt and the chanting was not even in tune. With a roar he rounded on the RatStranglers, breathing hot dragon breath over them.

Most people would have given up at this point, and some of the hangers-on who had just come along for a laugh and a bit of fun took off, but the bulk of the RatStranglers stayed. They had never yet lost a rat and they did not intend to start now.

Jenna was furious. “How dare you?” she yelled. “How dare you come in here chasing two poor rats and frightening a young dragon. How dare you?” The noise subsided as the RatStranglers, who in their excitement had not noticed the Princess, put down their lids. The chant petered out into an embarrassed silence.

The leader of the RatStranglers, an earnest-looking young man sporting a badge showing a fearsome rat with huge yellow fangs dripping with blood, stepped forward. “We are doing our civic duty, Your Princessness. Rats are filthy vermin, they spread disease—”

At this Jenna laughed. “That's ridiculous. They're as clean as you or I. And it's humans that spread disease, not rats.”

“We beg to differ, Princess,” said the young man. “The Sickenesse that has come to the Castle has been brought by the rats. They must be destroyed.”

“That's crazy,” said Jenna, shaking her head in disbelief. “You're just chasing rats because you like killing defenseless animals. It's horrible.”

“You should be grateful to us,” a thin, reedy voice piped up from the back of the crowd.

“Why?” asked Jenna, catching the threat in the voice.

“Because some people say that you have brought the Sickenesse, Princess.”

“Me?” Jenna was incredulous.

“They say it came on your Dragon Boat. They say it's a pity that that mutant ship wasn't left on the bottom of the Moat where it belongs.” This was accompanied by a general muttering of agreement from the back of the throng, but no one near Jenna dared say anything.

Jenna was shocked into silence and the RatStranglers took her silence for permission to invade Spit Fyre's kennel. They swarmed up the ramp, and in no time at all they were raking through the straw, searching for the rats. Jenna and Wolf Boy were overwhelmed by sheer numbers and there was nothing they could do—but Spit Fyre decided otherwise. As the RatStranglers crowded past him, he swung his tail angrily and sent the owner of the reedy voice flying into a pile of dragon droppings at the back of the kennel. Then with a loud creaking as the tough dragon skin stretched out from its creases—accompanied by the smell of stale dragon sweat—Spit Fyre unfurled his wings and raised them high into the air, casting a shadow across the dragon kennel. The RatStranglers stopped their hunt and watched in amazement as Spit Fyre bowed his head toward Jenna, as if inviting her to sit where Septimus always sat—just behind his neck between his shoulders.

Afraid that Spit Fyre might change his mind any minute, Jenna scrambled up into Septimus's place and hauled Wolf Boy up behind her, into the Navigator's position where she usually sat. Then, remembering the instructions that Alther had given Septimus on Spit Fyre's FirstFlyte, she gave the dragon two kicks on the right side.

They worked; Spit Fyre beat his wings slowly, once, twice, and on the third stroke.

Jenna felt the dragon's muscles tense as he rose just a few inches off the ground, keeping himself steady and controlled in the close confines of the Wizard Tower courtyard. Then, as Spit Fyre hovered for a brief moment and prepared to accelerate, a yell came from one of the RatStranglers: “There they are! Catch 'em!”

As Spit Fyre left the ground, he was carrying more passengers than he had bargained for. Hanging from the barb on the tip of his tail were two terrified rats.

The RatStranglers

The two rats' teeth chattered with fear as Spit Fyre rose from the Wizard Tower courtyard to a chorus of jeers and boos from the RatStranglers below.

Jenna was concentrating too hard on remembering all she knew about dragon flight to pay much attention, but one shrill voice rose above the clamor.

"She's in league with them. Didn't I tell you? It's her and that boat she brought here. Come on, boys." Although the voice belonged to a tall, spiky-looking woman, the Rat-Stranglers were mostly men and boys."Come on, let's go sink it once and for all." There was an answering howl from the rest of the RatStranglers.

Spit Fyre flew higher, and Jenna and Wolf Boy saw the mob surge through the Great Arch and head off along the narrow lane that led to the boatyard. Underneath the dragon, the rats swayed perilously.

“Dawnie,” gasped the larger rat that was hanging on to Spit Fyre's tail, while the shorter, more rotund rat clutched on to his ankles. “Dawnie, your claws are killing me. Do you have to hold on quite so tight?”

"Do you think I am doing this for the fun of it, Stanley? What do you suggest I do?

Let go and get killed by those fiends down there? Is that what you want?"

"Ouch. No. Don't be silly, dear. I just wondered if you could loosen your grip a little.

I can't feel my feet."

Spit Fyre swooped down low over the mob members, one of whom let fly a well-aimed trash can lid. It skimmed toward the rats, spinning in the air like a flying circular saw. Stanley shut his eyes. This was it, he thought. What a way to go, seen off by a flying trash can lid.

But Spit Fyre had seen the missile hurtling toward them, and the last few weeks of avoidance training with Septimus, which he had hated, as it had involved Beetle throwing all manner of things at him, paid off. Like a true professional, Spit Fyre dodged the lid and for good measure gave it a hefty swipe with his tail.

“Aargh, Stanley! We're going to dieeeeeee...” Dawnie screamed. Wolf Boy, who was feeling quite sick, felt some sympathy for Dawnie.

Jenna took Spit Fyre at full speed to the boatyard. They flew over the RatStranglers and Jenna reckoned they had about five minutes before the mob arrived at the boatyard. Five minutes in which Jenna had to land Spit Fyre, get over to the Dragon House and somehow make it secure.

Jannit Maarten was not at all pleased when she saw Spit Fyre heading toward her boatyard. The last time the dragon had turned up had been a complete disaster, brought about by the Heaps, as usual. And now here it was again, no doubt with one of the Heap clan on board. As Spit Fyre flew low into the boatyard Jannit tried to direct the dragon to an empty space recently occupied by the Port barge that Jannit and Rupert Gringe had just launched. Spit Fyre ignored Jannit. He didn't like people waving their arms at him and shouting, “Over here, over here! Oh, gunwales and gimlets, what is the idiot creature doing?”

Spit Fyre flew right over Jannit's head, missing her by a hairbreadth, and landed on the pilothouse of an old trawler, which was in a rather delicate state. The pilothouse could just about withstand the odd seagull landing on it, but it had no chance against a dragon whose total weight in seagulls was exactly 764. With a loud crack, the pilothouse collapsed, and Spit Fyre and his passengers found themselves in a pool of stagnant water in the trawler's hull.

“Up, Spit Fyre, up!” yelled Jenna, giving Spit Fyre a hefty kick on the right. With some difficulty, accompanied by a lot of squeaking from the end of his tail, Spit Fyre flapped and clawed his way out of the hull in a rather undignified fashion and landed beside the trawler.

“Look what you've done!” protested Jannit, arriving breathless beside the wreckage.

“We could have repaired that. Rupert was going to make a start on it tomorrow. Now look at it.”

“I'm sorry, Jannit,” Jenna apologized as she slipped down from Spit Fyre's neck. “I really am. But the RatStranglers are on their way to smash up the Dragon Boat.”

“Whatever for? She's not a rat.”

“I know,” said Jenna rather curtly. Leaving Wolf Boy to keep hold of Spit Fyre, Jenna ran off toward the Dragon House.

Jannit set off in pursuit. “Jenna!” she called out to her. “Jenna!” But Jenna did not stop. Jannit was annoyed; she didn't like the sound of this. It was true that she had not been exactly thrilled when the half boat, half dragon had turned up unannounced in the middle of the night a few months back. But now that the Dragon Boat was in her boatyard, Jannit considered it to be her responsibility, and no one messed around with Jannit Maarten's boats, especially not a bunch of thugs calling themselves RatStranglers. Jannit liked rats.

“Rupert,” said Jannit, waylaying Rupert Gringe, who was busy sawing wood, “take as many yard hands with you as you can find and close the tunnel gates. Put the bar across. Quick!” Rupert Gringe dropped what he was doing and went to do Jannit's bidding at once. He knew when Jannit meant business.

The Dragon Boat lay at the end of the Cut, until recently a dead-end piece of water that lay to the side of the boatyard, which had ended at the blank cliff face of the Castle wall. Ever since Jannit had had the boatyard she had wondered what the point of the Cut was. Three months ago she had found out. She had woken in the middle of the night to find that a huge cavern had opened up deep into the wall at the end of the Cut. Not just any old cavern either, but a towering lapis lazuli hall, covered in golden hieroglyphs. Jannit did not go in for opulence and thought the whole thing was a bit of an embarrassment, but she could not help being impressed all the same. She doubted that any other boatyard in the world had such a place—or such a boat—and that made her proud.

What dismayed Jannit was that although she, Rupert Gringe and Nicko had repaired the Dragon Boat beautifully—so that you would never know the dragon had been hit by two ThunderFlashes and had sunk to the bottom of the Moat—the creature itself was still unconscious. The dragon lay with her head resting on the cool marble walkway on the side of the Dragon House, her great green eyes closed, her breathing quiet and slow. Her tail had been carefully placed on a marble ledge at the back of the Dragon House, neatly coiled by Jannit and Nicko, like a huge piece of green rope, and it had not moved since.

A great clang reverberated through the yard as Rupert put the bar in place across the doors to the tunnel. A moment later an even louder clanging and banging started up.

The RatStranglers had arrived just in time to see the doors closed against them.

“I'm not having that urmily mob in here wrecking my boats.” said Jannit, catching up with Jenna. They squeezed around a large stack of planks piled up against the great Castle wall, then they ran along a narrow path between two tall-masted boats in need of new rigging and quickly reached the entrance of the Dragon House. With angry shouts and the sound of battering on the boatyard doors echoing across the yard, Jenna and Jannit entered the quiet shadows of the Dragon House.

The Dragon Boat lay still, with her great head resting on Jannit's one and only Persian rug, now somewhat charred, which was laid on the marble walkway along the side. Jenna knelt down and placed her hand on the creature's head, but the dragon, as ever, did not move. Her smooth scales felt cool to the touch and the emerald eyes under her thick dark green eyelids did not flutter as Jenna gently stroked them.

Jannit stood back and watched Jenna. Even at a time like this, Jannit did not like to interrupt whatever was going on between Jenna and the Dragon Boat. She was used to Jenna's moments with the dragon, but usually she kept well out of the way, for she felt as if she would be intruding if she came too near. Jannit had noticed that the boatyard often fell silent when Jenna put her hand on the dragon, but not today. The sounds of the RatStranglers systematically ramming the boatyard door filled the air.

Jannit wondered what Jenna thought she was doing, wasting time stroking the dragon when they ought to be setting up some kind of barricade in front of the Dragon House. But she did not say so, for Jannit had, over the last few months, become a little in awe of Jenna and her determination to wake the Dragon Boat.

Suddenly Jenna sprang to her feet. “I think I heard her,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

“What?” asked Jannit, distracted by some inventive insults that Rupert Gringe was hurling at the RatStranglers.

“The dragon. She was very faint, but I'm sure I did. We have to Seal the Dragon House.”

“How, exactly?” snapped Jannit, worried now, realizing that the mob was not going to go away and was unlikely to stop at smashing up just the Dragon Boat.

“The way it was opened. With Fyre—Dragon Fyre.” And then Jenna's face fell as she remembered. “Oh,” she said. “Spit Fyre can't do Fyre.”

“Yes, he can,” said Jannit, who had heard all about Spit Fyre's hatching from Nicko.

“Did it when he hatched.”

“That's just Infant Fyre. All dragons do that when they're first hatched.”

The noise of splintering wood echoed through the boatyard.

“They're nearly through the doors,” said Jannit in her matter-of-fact tone. “Not much time left. Excuse me, I'm going to go get my ax. If they're looking for trouble, they're going to find it.”

Jenna knew that there was nothing else to be done; she must try to Ignite Spit Fyre.

Taking her Navigator's toffee tin from her tunic pocket, Jenna opened it and fished out the red piece of dragon skin. She unfolded it and, to her surprise and dismay, there was only one word on it: Ignite. How could that possibly be enough?

But Jenna knew she had to try. She raced back to Spit Fyre.

“Excuse me, 409,” said Jenna, breathless, clambering back onto Spit Fyre. Wolf Boy began to climb up too, but to his relief Jenna said, "I've got to do this on my own.

I've got to make Spit Fyre breathe Fyre."

Spit Fyre pricked up his ears. Fyre? Now? But what about breakfast?