Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke
Maia looked down at him with an ironic smile. “You’ll pick out more than one little stone, dwarf,” she said. “You’re greedy. All the same, we’ll let you stay here if you wake the other dragons.”
Gravelbeard bowed so low to her that he had to hold his hat on.
“I’ll wake them!” he cried. “All of them, Your Silverness, all of them. I’ll set to work at once.”
And with his hammer already in his hand again, he climbed the nearest petrified dragon’s tail and started chipping away as if his old master were breathing down his neck.
Firedrake and Maia took the dusty Shimmertail between them and led him down the long tunnel to the outside world, where he had not set paw for more than a thousand nights. The black ravens had disappeared. The three dragons flew over the valley in the light of the thin sickle of the waning moon, and Shimmertail washed the dust off his scales in the lake.
The toad that had lent Nettlebrand its life sat on the bank, watching. And with every moonbeam that fell on the scales of the silver dragons, its dark memories faded.
55. What Now?
At noon the next day, Firedrake was perched on a rocky outcrop high above the valley, unable to sleep. Gravelbeard’s tapping and hammering had driven him out of the great cavern. The light and warmth of the sun usually made him sleepy, but it wasn’t working today. Firedrake kept raising his head from his paws, looking at the surrounding peaks, and sighing.
After a while, Ben joined him. He climbed the rocks, sat down beside the dragon, and looked at him anxiously. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Why aren’t you resting?”
“I can’t seem to fall asleep,” said Firedrake. “What are the others doing?”
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, nothing special. Well, no one’s asleep. Sorrel is getting Burr-Burr-Chan to explain the Dubidai method of cultivating mushrooms. Maia is telling Shimmertail all about what happened while he was asleep. Gravelbeard is tapping away, and Twigleg’s flying on a sightseeing trip with Lola.”
“Really?” Firedrake nodded and then sighed again.
“What are you going to do now?” Ben looked inquiringly at the dragon. “I mean, are you going straight home to the north now that you’ve found this valley?”
“I wish I knew,” replied Firedrake, looking up at the white peaks. “I thought of nothing else on our way here. Suppose I fly home and find that the others don’t want to come back here with me after all?”
Ben looked at him in surprise. “Why wouldn’t they? I thought they had to leave? You told me human beings were going to flood your valley.”
Firedrake nodded. “Yes, but when I left, the others wouldn’t believe it might really happen. They wanted to try driving off the humans. The way the fairies do, you know. Fairies know how to prevent humans from building roads over their fairy mounds.”
“They do?” Ben stared at Firedrake. “How?”
“They sprinkle magic dust on the engines that work the machinery,” replied the dragon. “They pinch and nip, they blow itching powder into safety helmets and up noses, and they conjure up so much rain that the humans and their machines get stuck in the mud. Fairies are so tiny they can even make themselves invisible for a moment or so. Humans can never catch them. It’s different with us dragons.”
“It is indeed,” murmured Ben, admiring Firedrake’s silver scales. He still never tired of gazing at the dragon. As far as he was concerned, there was no creature in the whole world more magical.
“What do you advise?” asked Firedrake, looking at the boy. “Shall I just stay here? Or shall I fly back all that way, back to the others who may not want to come? Who may just think I’m a young fool?” At a loss, Firedrake shook his head. “Perhaps they won’t even believe I’ve found the Rim of Heaven.”
Ben leaned against Firedrake’s warm scales and looked down at the lake.
“I think you’ll have to go back,” he said after a while. “Or you’d always be wondering what happened to them. Whether the humans destroyed them. Whether they would have followed you here. It would always be going around in your head, driving you crazy.”
Firedrake said nothing for a long time, then he nodded slowly. “You’re right, dragon rider,” he said, nuzzling Ben affectionately with his nose. “Yes, you’re right. Much as I like it here, I must go back. And it will be best if I set off this very night.”
He rose, shook himself, and looked around once more. “I’ll tell Sorrel and the others. What about you? Will you come with us, or shall I take you to the monastery? The Greenblooms will be there.”
Now it was Ben who was stuck for an answer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “What would you do?”
Firedrake looked at him. “I’ll take you to the Greenblooms,” he said. “You need human beings the way I need the other dragons, the way Sorrel isn’t happy without other brownies to quarrel with. Without human beings, you’d start to feel very lonely.”
“I’ll feel lonely without you dragons, too,” said Ben, looking away from Firedrake.
“No, no!” Firedrake rubbed his head very gently against the boy’s. “Believe me, we shall meet again. I’ll visit you as often as your short human life allows.”
“Oh, yes, please,” replied Ben. “Visit me often.” And he put his arms around the dragon’s neck and hugged him as if he would never let him go.
56. The Way Back
The moon had risen over the valley when Firedrake emerged from the Dubidai tunnel with Ben and Sorrel on his back. Lola’s plane was whirring around the dragon’s horns, and Twigleg was sitting on the backseat. He and Lola had been inseparable ever since the rat saved him from Nettlebrand’s jaws.
Maia had Burr-Burr-Chan on her back. She was planning to accompany Firedrake to the monastery. By now Gravelbeard’s hammer had brought two more dragons back to life, and they, too, came out with Shimmertail to say good-bye to Firedrake and Maia, and to set eyes on the moon again. Only Gravelbeard had stayed in the cave. He was so busy tapping away that he just nodded when the dragons said good-bye to him.
“Come back soon,” Shimmertail told Firedrake as they stood at the entrance to the tunnel. “And bring the others with you. This valley is much too large for just us, even if the dwarf does wake all the others.”
Firedrake nodded. “I’ll try to bring them,” he replied. “And if they don’t want to come, I’ll fly back on my own.”
He looked around one last time, taking in the white mountains and the black lake, and then gazing up at the starry sky. Then he spread his wings and took off from the rocky slope of the mountainside. Maia caught up and flew beside him until they reached the pass that Firedrake had crossed so recently and yet so long ago.
He enjoyed flying through the mountains with another dragon beside him. Sometimes, when he was not sure of the best way, Maia flew ahead with Burr-Burr-Chan so that the Dubidai brownie could guide them. But most of the time, the two dragons traveled side by side. Firedrake flew more slowly than usual so that Maia could get used to the winds.
As they soared above the mountain with the monastery on its steep slope, they saw the dull gleam of the river Indus below. The rat was first to land in the courtyard outside the prayer hall.
This time, there was no one waiting for them. But before they set off for the Rim of Heaven, Ben had made a special promise to Barnabas Greenbloom and the lama. No sooner had Firedrake folded his wings than Ben jumped off his back and ran over to a long row of bells swaying gently in the wind beside the flight of steps leading to the Dhu-Khang. Then he rang the largest of them. Its deep, full sound echoed through the night, and soon doors and windows were opening everywhere, and the monks came pouring out of their little cells.
They surrounded the two dragons, all laughing and calling out at once. Ben could hardly manage to get back to Firedrake through the crowd. When he had finally made his way over to the dragon, he quickly climbed on his back again to keep watch for the Greenblooms.
Maia was staying very close to F
At last, Ben saw the professor and his family, together with the lama, hurrying toward the dragons. Guinevere was waving wildly. Ben waved back shyly.
“Welcome!” cried Barnabas Greenbloom. “My word, are we glad to see you!”
He was so excited that he almost fell over a couple of young monks who were standing in front of Firedrake, beaming up at him. When the lama whispered something to them they nodded and busily set about clearing a path for the dragon up the steps to the Dhu-Khang. First Barnabas Greenbloom flung his arms around Firedrake’s neck, then he shook Sorrel’s furry paw, and finally he grinned broadly up at Ben.
“Well, dragon rider?” he shouted above the hubbub of voices. “Shall I make a guess? Between you all you did it, am I right? You defeated Nettlebrand, the Golden One!”
Ben nodded. What with all this excitement, he couldn’t get any words out. The little monks — the youngest was perhaps just half Ben’s age — had made a way through the crowd for the dragons, and the lama himself led them up the wide flight of steps to the prayer hall. Maia was glad to disappear into the cool darkness. The lama said a few more words to the monks who suddenly stood quite still down in the moonlight. Then he closed the heavy door behind the dragons and turned to them with a smile.
“Two dragons at once,” the professor translated. “Which means great good luck for our monastery and the valley! Did it all turn out as the prophecy foretold? Has the return of the dragon rider brought us the return of the dragons?”
Ben climbed off Firedrake’s back and went over to the professor, a shy smile on his face. “Yes, I think the dragons will come back,” he said. “Nettlebrand’s gone forever.”
Barnabas Greenbloom took the boy’s hand and shook it vigorously. Guinevere smiled at him. Ben couldn’t remember ever having felt happier in his life — or more embarrassed.
“But — but it was all of us working together,” he stammered.
“With brownie spit and dragon-fire!” Sorrel slipped off Firedrake’s back. “With homunculus cunning, human reason, an aviator-ace rat, and even the help of a dwarf, although that wasn’t exactly what the dwarf intended.”
“It sounds as if you have a great deal to tell us,” said Vita Greenbloom.
Ben nodded. “A very great deal.”
“Good.” Rubbing his hands, Barnabas Greenbloom exchanged a few words with the lama. Then he turned back to the dragons. “The people here love a good story,” he said. “Do you think there’ll be time to tell them yours before Firedrake sets off on the journey home? They would be very glad to hear it.”
The dragons exchanged glances before they both nodded.
“Would you like to rest a little first?” asked Barnabas Greenbloom solicitously. “Would anyone like something to eat and drink?”
“Sounds like a good idea!” cried Sorrel and Burr-Burr-Chan in unison.
So the two brownies had mushrooms to eat, while Ben polished off a whole mountain of rice and two chocolate bars that Guinevere had given him. Now that all the excitement was over, his appetite had returned.
The dragons lay down on the wooden floor at the far end of the hall, with Firedrake resting his head on Maia’s back. In the light of the many little lamps illuminating the hall, they looked as if they had just climbed out of one of the pictures on the wall. Then the lama opened the door again and the monks streamed in. The sight of the dragons rooted them to the spot among the columns.
Only when Firedrake raised his head and the professor beckoned them forward did the monks approach, slowly and with hesitant steps. They squatted on the floor at a respectful distance from the dragons. The oldest monks pushed the youngest ones to the front, where they could kneel close to the creatures’ silver claws.
The Greenblooms joined the monks, but Ben and the brownies, Twigleg and Lola, sat on the crests of Firedrake’s and Maia’s tails.
When all was still in the hall, and the only sound was the rustling of the monks’ robes, Firedrake cleared his throat and began to tell the story — in the language of fabulous animals, the language that everyone can understand.
As the moon set outside and the sun began its daily journey across the sky, he told the tale of his quest from the very beginning. His words filled the hall with pictures. He spoke of a clever white rat, enchanted ravens and mountain dwarves, sand-elves and Dubidai. As he went on with his story, the basilisk fell to dust once more, and the blue djinn opened his thousand eyes. The sea serpent swam through the waves, and the great roc bird snatched Ben away. Finally, as the sun outside was sinking in the sky, Nettlebrand climbed the dragons’ mountain. His armor melted in blue dragon-fire, and a toad hopped out of his mouth.
At last, Firedrake fell silent, stretched, and looked around him.
“The story ends here,” he said. “The story of Sorrel and Ben the dragon rider, of Firedrake and Nettlebrand, the Golden One, whose servants were his doom. Tomorrow night a new story begins. I don’t yet know how it will end, and I will not tell it to you until I do.”
Then the lama rose, bowed to Firedrake, and said, “We thank you. We will write down all we have heard, and we wish you luck on the journey that still lies ahead of you. Now we will go and leave you to gather strength for the journey home.”
As if at a signal, the monks rose quietly to leave the hall. At the door they all turned to look once more at the dragons sitting between the columns, for they were not sure whether they would ever again in their lives be fortunate enough to see a dragon.
“Ben,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, when the hall was empty and only the lama was still with them, “we’ll have to leave tomorrow, too. Guinevere’s school term is about to begin. I was wondering,” he continued awkwardly, running his hand through his gray hair, “if the dragon rider decided what to do yet?”
Ben looked at Firedrake and Sorrel and Twigleg, who was sitting on the floor next to Lola. “Yes, please. I’d like to come, too,” he said. “With you, I mean.”
“Wonderful!” cried Barnabas Greenbloom, shaking Ben’s hand so hard it almost hurt. “Hear that, Vita? Hear that, Guinevere?”
Vita Greenbloom and her daughter smiled.
“Yes, Barnabas, we did,” said Vita, “but however pleased you may be you mustn’t crush my future son’s fingers.”
Guinevere leaned over to Ben and whispered, “You know, I’ve always wished I had a brother. It can sometimes be a real pain being an only child.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Ben whispered back, although at the moment, he could imagine nothing but the most wonderful things in the world when he thought of his new family.
“See them whispering together?” said Barnabas Greenbloom to his wife. “They have secrets from us already. This could be interesting!”
Then they suddenly heard a sob.
Twigleg was sitting on the floor with his face buried in his hands. Tiny tears trickled through his fingers and dripped on his bony knees.
“Twigleg!” Ben knelt down beside the homunculus, concerned. “But you knew I wanted to stay with the Greenblooms.”
“Yes, yes,” the homunculus sobbed even louder, “but what’s to become of me? Where am I to go now, young master?”
Ben quickly picked him up and put him on his arm. “Why, you’ll stay with me, of course!” He glanced inquiringly at his new mother. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?”
“Of course,” replied Vita. “We could really use your talents as an interpreter, Twigleg.”
“Indeed we could!” cried the professor. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Ninety-three,” murmured the homunculus, and he stopped sobbing.
“I tell you what!” Guinevere tapped his knee. “You can live in my doll’s house.”
“Doll’s house?” The homunculus removed his hands from his face and looked at the girl indignantly. “I am not a doll! No, a nice cool corner of th
“Well, that shouldn’t be any problem,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, smiling. “We have a big old house with a large cellar. But we’ll be away a good deal on our travels, as you know. I hope you can live with that, too.”
“Oh, yes!” Twigleg took a handkerchief out of his sleeve and blew his nose. “I’ve actually enjoyed getting to know the world.”
“Good, then that’s settled,” said the professor happily. “Let’s start packing.” He turned to Firedrake. “Is there anything else we can do for you? When do you plan to set off?”
The dragon bent his head. “As soon as the moon has risen in the sky. Admittedly I haven’t had much sleep recently, but I’ll make up for that later. Now I just want to start the journey. How about you, Sorrel?”
“No problem,” muttered Sorrel, scratching her stomach. “Or rather, yes, there is just a tiny little problem.”
Firedrake looked at her in surprise. “What is it?”
Burr-Burr-Chan cleared his throat. “I’d like to come, too,” he said. “I could teach my two-armed relations how to grow cultivated mushrooms.”
Firedrake nodded. “Then I’ll have two dragon riders again,” he said. “All the better.” He turned to the she-dragon, who was standing beside him licking her scales. “But what about you, Maia?” asked Firedrake. “Can you find your way back to the Rim of Heaven on your own?”
“Of course.” Maia raised her head and looked at him. “But I’m not going back. Shimmertail is there to look after the others. I’m coming with you.”
Firedrake’s heart leaped with joy. All of a sudden, he hardly minded what might be waiting for him on his return.
“After all, suppose they don’t believe you at home in the north?” asked Maia as if she had read his thoughts. “If I’m there, too, I’ll be living proof that you found us and the Rim of Heaven. And together I’m sure we can persuade them to come back with us.”