Lief felt Jasmine and Barda seize his arms and haul him back. He heard the razor sharp claws scrape the rock again, felt the hot blast of fire on his face.
A wave thundered onto the tall rocks behind them. Cold spray drenched them, instantly turning to steam in the monster’s fire.
Barda was bellowing over the sound of the waves … get as close to the water as we can!’ Barda was shouting. ‘Our only chance …’
But the dragon was above them, striking at them, sending them sprawling on the greasy stone, rolling and scrabbling away from its clawing feet, its bursts of fire.
And, then, through the swirling veil of steam, Lief saw the tall figure of Lindal standing her ground, her spear arm raised.
‘Lindal!’ Barda bellowed, scrambling to his feet. ‘Get down!’
A spear flew through the air. It struck the dragon’s thrashing tail, bounced away and clattered uselessly to the ground.
Lindal did not falter. Another spear was already in her hand. She hurled it, and this time it reached its mark—its point piercing the softer, paler flesh of the monster’s belly.
The monster screeched, clawed the waving spear from its body, and wheeled to face its attacker.
They all saw Lindal’s teeth flash in a savage grin of triumph. ‘Now! Go!’ she shouted.
Barda hesitated.
‘Barda!’ shrieked Jasmine, pulling at his arm.
‘Do not make this all for nothing, you bumbling ox!’ roared Lindal, reaching for her last spear. ‘Get to the water!’
And with a groan Barda obeyed her. He turned his back on her, seized Lief with his free arm and leaped for the tall rocks where the sea pounded upon the land, where spray now rained down unceasingly, and water ran in streams.
They squeezed into a gap between the rocks and turned, in terror, just in time to see Lindal fall—fall, crumpled and bleeding, beneath the monster’s beating wing.
The beast’s ghastly head turned on its swollen neck. It glared at its fallen enemy. It roared, and a plume of fire belched downward.
Lindal’s clothes burst into flames. The puddles on the stones around her hissed and steamed.
Lief and Jasmine cried out in grief and horror. But Barda stood rigid and silent as the rock.
A giant wave thundered behind them, and this time the water frothed over them in a flood, streaming over the smooth stones, running down into Dragon’s Nest.
The beast snarled. It shook its head as if to clear its eyes. And then, suddenly, its neck twisted again—twisted away from Lindal. Suddenly it was looking up—up into the swirling steam above its head.
It gave a broken cry, its crooked mouth gaping, its forked tongue darting. Its leathery wings began to flap wildly. Its ungainly body jerked, turning this way and that as if in panic. Its spiked, stubby tail thrashed on the steaming rock.
Then abruptly the billowing steam was swept away—swept away as if by a great wind. And Lief’s heart leaped as he saw, plunging down from the sky, a vast, glittering creature red as the setting sun, with eyes like glowing coals, wings like scarlet sails and a tail sleek and slender as a stream of fire.
‘Another dragon!’ Jasmine gasped. ‘Another ruby dragon!’
But Lief was looking down at the Belt of Deltora, at the glowing, scarlet star that the great ruby had become, and was wondering how ever he could have been deceived.
‘No,’ he shouted. ‘Not another ruby dragon. The ruby dragon. The true ruby dragon has risen at last.’
18 - Fight to the Death
Snarling, the monster on the ground rose to defend itself. It clawed the air, and fire spurted from his jaws. But then its enemy was upon it, and in moments the battle was over.
Indeed, it was no battle at all, for the rage-filled beast that had answered Lief’s desperate call had a dragon’s heart, mind and will, and the nightmare copy on the ground did not.
The copy could tear frail humans apart, and its fire could burn their flesh to blackened cinders, but it was no match for the most ancient and mysterious of Deltora’s beasts.
In seconds it was on its back, its throat torn and bleeding, its body heaving as its life drained away.
The ruby dragon raised its head, spread its wings and roared its savage triumph as waves thundered on the rocks and spray flew upward to fall like rain.
It licked its lips, as if tasting the salt. Its great head turned towards the sea.
And as the echo of its roar still growled like thunder in the Mountains, it launched itself into the air and was gone.
Lief, Barda and Jasmine crawled shakily out of hiding. They were drenched, and very cold. Shivering, they turned towards the crashing waves and looked up.
The ruby dragon was a vivid splash of scarlet against the blue sky. Water streamed from its scales. In its mouth was the flashing silver of a wriggling fish. The fish disappeared. The dragon wheeled and dived again.
‘It will be back,’ Barda muttered. He began to move across the stones, towards the place where Lindal fell.
The scarlet beast lay across their path. Its scales had darkened to the colour of dried blood, but all of them could see that it still lived.
As they cautiously approached it, its tiny eyes opened and fixed them with a look of dull hatred.
‘Keep back,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘It would strike at us, even now, if it could.’
The beast hissed, as if with loathing, and suddenly the bulbous folds of its misshapen body began to heave and roll like the waves on the sea, the scales shimmering like dark water.
The companions jumped back, staring in disbelief as the rippling mound of flesh collapsed in on itself and melted away.
Then it had gone, and all that was left lying on the stones was the sprawled, torn body of Rolf the Capricon.
‘Rolf!’ Lief whispered. And, all at once, a long line of things that had puzzled him made perfect sense.
Rolf’s reckless exposure of him to the Granous. The dimming of the ruby when no enemy could be seen. The lightening of his heart as the guards, with Rolf, moved away. The guard troop, taken by surprise despite the night watch. The sparing of the horses. Rolf’s lack of surprise on seeing that Lindal was with them. Rolf’s strength after being in the Nest …
And most of all, the false dragon, ugly as a nightmare in a fevered brain.
Rolf’s pale lips stretched into a malicious smile.
‘You fools!’ he said. ‘How easily I deceived you! A finger was a small price to pay for your trust. The sacrifice of my pride was not.’
His head rolled from side to side. ‘Do you think I did not know how you despised me?’ he hissed. ‘Me!—the one who could have transformed and torn you limb from limb in a moment—if it had not been for that accursed Belt.’
He paused, panting, licking his foam-flecked lips.
‘I knew I had to wait—wait until you reached the home of the Sister, the heart of my power, where even the Belt could not save you. So I watched and stayed my hand, even when the loathsome woman of Broome joined you and I longed to attack.’
His hands twitched, clutching at the air. His hatred was almost visible. It was as if it oozed from the pores of his skin, and hung about him like a poisonous cloud.
‘I had hoped you would all come into the pit, but you cheated me, and did not,’ he rasped. ‘So again I waited, until you were all together once more, for I had sworn a mighty oath that not one of you would escape my wrath, as you escaped it at End Wood Gap.’
He smiled crookedly. ‘Not for a moment did you suspect me,’ he breathed. ‘I was too clever for you.’
‘You do not look so clever now,’ snarled Barda, staring down at him.
Rolf sneered. ‘Your evil beast has been the death of me, but there are others—other servants of the Master—who lie in wait for you. This is your last battle, scum of the land. And it is a battle you will never win.’