The Beasts of Upton Puddle (36 page)

“That's not true. You've—”

“And now I've brought us all here, ready to be—” She stopped, horror in her eyes.

Joe hunted for the right thing to say, but before he could think of anything useful, Tabariel, the green-hued seraph belonging to the largest dragon, drifted to them and faced Mrs. Merrynether.

“Veronica Merrynether. The years have not been
kind to you.”

She looked up and huffed, as if the greeting was exactly as she expected. “Hello to you too.”

“Danariel assures me your presence on this island is necessary, but she has yet to offer us a good enough reason for your arrival.”

“Then am I to understand Argoyle Redwar has not come to Pyronesia threatening to destroy you all?”

“Danariel also mentioned this man, but you are the first outsiders to come to Pyronesia for decades. Am I expected to believe this Redwar has a way of detecting us and even threatening us?”

“I heard from a reliable source this was the case”—Mrs. Merrynether let her eyes fall on Thumbler's body—“though I seriously doubt Redwar has the means to endanger any of you, even with an army.”

“Then why did you come?”

“Our intention was to stop him and his army before he made any contact with the Conclave. We were afraid he would precipitate an all-out attack on the rest of the world.”

“And so he would have. Gnauserous has been growing restless these last few years, and when Danariel eventually left to see you, all Gnauserous has been discussing with the rest of the Conclave is when to begin the attack. The arrival of someone like Redwar would give Gnauserous the perfect excuse to begin the war, as it was with your arrival.”

“Our arrival?” Joe interrupted.

“Yes, yours. How do you think Gnauserous reacted when the globbles saw an enormous ark heading toward Pyronesia? She sent me out to destroy you. For years I have managed to conceal my support of the rebellion, but now my involvement is plain. I had to kill two of my kin to keep you safe, only to find this pathetic gathering you came up with to oppose the Conclave. What have you been
doing
all this time? Is this the best you could do?”

Mrs. Merrynether had never looked so downcast. “We . . . I thought the Conclave had . . . mellowed.”

“Mellowed. Do you think a thousand years of hatred and paranoia could be calmed in such a small span of time?”

“Well, what have you been doing, then?” Joe said, feeling a righteous anger bubbling within. “Why should it be up to Mrs. Merrynether to stop one of your own? If you don't have the courage to stand up to her, that's your own problem, isn't it?”

The lead dragon, deeper in the cave, stamped a claw and roared a ball of fire.

Tabariel's glow deepened to indigo.

“Thank you, Joseph,” said Mrs. Merrynether, “but Tabariel is right. The Conclave's hatred for humanity was inflamed when I brought the team here all those years ago. I have a responsibility, and I have not fulfilled my part in this.”

“No,” insisted Joe, eyeing the seraph. “He can
stamp and complain all he likes. What happened all those years ago was a big misunderstanding, and even if there were a couple of greedy people on the team, you can hardly hold the whole of humanity responsible for what they did.”

The seraph stared back at him, and Joe thought he saw a flash of a smile. “Brave words, boy. I happen to agree with you, which is why I am part of the rebellion, but don't ever accuse me of cowardice again. There are too few of us in opposition to Gnauserous to make a stand at this time. Acts of bravery will most certainly result in our destruction.”

“But what about earlier on? Didn't you say what you did would make your involvement with the rebellion plain?”

“Exactly. And now perhaps you understand my anger. I have risked everything and”—he waved a tiny hand—“gained nothing.”

Joe looked at Mrs. Merrynether.

She looked back but said nothing.

“Who is this Gnauserous anyway?” Joe asked. “I heard Danariel say something earlier about being separated from her but still having some influence.”

“The boy doesn't know?” said Tabariel, staring incredulously at Joe. “I thought his presence on this island meant you had chosen him as the—”

“Stop!” said Mrs. Merrynether.

“The what? What have I been chosen as? I thought
you said you wanted me as your successor for your practice? What's going on?”

Mrs. Merrynether shot an angry glance at Tabariel before resting her tearful gaze on Joe. “I do want you as my successor, Joseph, but . . . that role carries a dreadful responsibility—something I wanted to tell you when you were older so that you could decide for yourself whether—”

“What responsibility?”

She sighed. “I told you only a portion of the truth earlier. You remember when I told you about the boy James Merson and how I showed him to the dragon to beg for mercy?”

“Yes.”

“That dragon was Gnauserous, the Queen of Pyronesia and the head of the Conclave. She wanted to destroy mankind even before the catastrophe that killed most of my team and led to the death of one of her young. But by pleading my case to her, I unknowingly invoked an ancient Pyronesian law. Before war is announced, a chosen representative from each side must meet to see if a peaceful resolution can be found.

“I was taken to the Conclave, but when I made my plea, Gnauserous would not accept it and still wanted to go to war. Fortunately, her kin-tie did not agree, and after a bitter dispute among the Conclave, war was avoided and Gnauserous's seraph separated from her that day.”

“Danariel.”

“Yes, Danariel.”

“But where do I fit into—?”

A minor commotion broke out near the entrance to the cave as Flarp zoomed inside, tendrils wriggling. Snappel was hopping, flapping her wings.

“What's up?” asked Joe. “Is something coming?”

Flarp backed toward the entrance.

Joe and Mrs. Merrynether followed, Tabariel zipping beside them. Night had fallen like a dark cloak across the island. Joe marveled at the moon lighting Pyronesia's landscape—until a cloud of V shapes blotted out the white disc.

“Is it the Conclave?” Joe asked, wondering if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“I will find out,” said Tabariel.

A gale almost knocked Joe over as the enormous dragon leader flew overhead and into the night, Tabariel on its back. A small crowd had gathered at the entrance, tensely anticipating the confrontation.

There was a moment of shared fear, nervous growls, and high-pitched chirps as the other dragons formed a ring around the rebel; then relief settled as their dragon joined the rest and headed down toward the Nesting Cavern.

Joe counted eighty-seven dragons when they landed on the beach. None of them were quite as large as Tabariel's dragon, but each of them looked formidable. It was hard to see properly in the moonlight, but Joe
noted that they all had different colorings and markings. Ranging from the deepest black to the palest blue, each of them had slightly different scaly growths on their hides, which Joe thought might be an indication of age or rank.

From the peak of the crowd, Tabariel fluttered toward Joe and hovered before him, looking grave.

“Who are they?” Joe asked.

“The time has come to make a stand. The gathering you see is the full force of those who will resist Gnauserous and the Conclave.”

“There are loads of you. Surely you can easily take over.”

Danariel came to rest on Joe's shoulder. “You underestimate the size of the Conclave. They have ten thousand dragons at their disposal, and they aren't the only creatures populating Pyronesia.”

“So why is it time to make a stand? We're outnumbered a hundred to one.”

“We have no choice,” said Tabariel. “Your arrival on this island started a chain of events, and now we are all exposed. If we do not resist or make a plea, Gnauserous will have all of us destroyed anyway and begin her campaign against the world unhampered.”

“So is that it? That's the plan? To fight with no chance of winning?”

“The time for war has not yet come. We have made our plea before the Conclave for representatives from each side to meet. They must first try for a peaceful
solution before war is announced.”

“So that's good news, right?”

“No. It is merely for show. She will call the meeting. If she wins, she will go to war. If she loses, I suspect she will find a way to manipulate the law and start hostilities anyway.”

“So what's the point in even trying?”

“We can buy some time to plan,” said Danariel. “It's all we have. If we're really lucky, the rest of the Conclave might even persuade Gnauserous that war is a bad idea, but that would depend on the skill of our representative . . .”

Mrs. Merrynether, who had quietly joined them, broke the silence. “Then take me to the Conclave. I brought this calamity here. I should be the one to represent us.”

“No,” said Tabariel. “You
know
it cannot be you. You are a sentenced criminal in the eyes of the Conclave and would not be heard. No, surely this is the real reason you brought the boy.”

Joe's stomach leapt as he turned toward Mrs. Merrynether. Her eyes betrayed the pain of guilt before she looked away.

“Joseph Copper,” said Tabariel, “as the only other representative of the human race on this island, will you come with us?”

A strange feeling of destiny sent thrills across Joe's skin as he traveled to meet the Conclave. Dawn came with a stormy sky, but the sun shone through the clouds, as if to expose the dread he had been trying to conceal in the dark of the night. Mrs. Merrynether had insisted he be allowed to sleep before being taken to the Conclave, but Joe could not even close his eyes when the time came to rest.

From the moment he accepted his role as humanity's representative to meet Gnauserous, he experienced feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered the heaviness of responsibility when he'd found out about Heinrich, and he recalled the twisting and turning inside his belly when Mrs. Merrynether had gone missing, but none of that had prepared him for this. What lay before him now was quite different, and he wondered how many other people in the long-forgotten
ages of the world had been burdened with the knowledge that their actions could change the course of history. All at once, he felt like the unexpected hero of the hour but also the most insignificant speck of dust, swept along in a cyclone of events over which he had no control.

In a curious way, Joe's journey to the Conclave mirrored his feelings exactly. There he was, the brave knight fastened into a saddle, riding on the back of a giant reptile, the cold wind stinging his eyes and numbing his face as they swooped through the clouds toward his destiny. Or was he the speck, manipulated into being just another disposable pawn of a war he knew nothing about, clinging in sheer terror to the back of a monster leading him to his death?

Below, the beach had turned to dense forests and then to bony mountains as they raced onward. To his left and right, a host of twenty dragons flew in majestic harmony, perfectly aligned in order of size, each beating its wings in time with the others. Joe felt a cascade of emotions. Whether they would be expressed in tears, cheers, or screams, he had no clue, but as the confusion rattled his thoughts like marbles in a tin box, he clutched at the leather handles, fighting to keep a calm mind, staring at the green mountains below.

“You will need to quiet your soul before you face Queen Gnauserous.”

Joe turned, startled from his thoughts. Tabariel
had drawn alongside him, his delicate wings flickering as he matched their speed.

“Easy for you to say.”

“But true nonetheless.”

“It doesn't make it any easier. I don't have a clue what to do or say. And anyway, I can't just switch off how I'm feeling, can I?”

Joe studied the seraph's face and envied what he saw. Old and stern but softened by ethereal green light, the seraph had the face of a warlord who had seen a thousand battles. Tabariel's face twitched into a scowl; then he shook his head. “Merrynether has taught you nothing.”

“There hasn't been much opportunity.”

Tabariel hovered closer, his intense gaze burrowing deep, and Joe felt prickly indignation at the sudden intrusion. He allowed the seed of emotion to have a foothold and quickly felt it sprout into anger, believing that to be far better than the fear and despair he might have felt otherwise. The resulting outburst was a little more aggressive than he had planned.

“Get out of my head,” Joe shouted. “I'm done being controlled and . . . and told what to think and feel. I'm done with people tricking me, and most of all, I'm done being used. Just leave me alone!”

“I am trying to help you calm your thoughts.”

“I don't want your help. You're the one who wants mine, so if you want
me
to be a representative, you'd
better let
me
deal with how I feel, all right?”

“Your anger is directed at those you love. I can feel that.”

Joe stared directly ahead, focusing on the slow rhythmic movement of the dragon's shoulder blades, hating the seraph for being right and still wanting to hold on to his anger. Anger at Heinrich for betraying everyone, anger at Mrs. Merrynether for not telling him all the truth, and anger at Danariel—she surely must have known too, yet she persuaded him to come to Pyronesia to fulfill his
destiny
. Joe's pulse quickened, and his breathing grew harsher with each stinging thought.

“I trusted them,” he said.

“And they have let you down?” Tabariel said.

“Mrs. Merrynether didn't tell me I might die when I agreed to come with her to Pyronesia.”

“Nobody is going to let you die. I will protect you.”