Butterfingers Page 5

  "Yes, we are," said Ned. "But we don't think it useless. We intend to do a bit of—"

  "Monster-slaying!" came the tiny voice of the mouse.

  "Ah." The fox scratched his one ear nonchalantly. "Monster-slaying? Well, well, well, well."

  "Have you seen the monster?" asked Otter.

  The fox came a little nearer. "Ah, well, to be honest," he told them, "I have seen the monster and I can't say I like it. For one thing, it tends to scorch my trees as it Hies over."

  "Your trees! Why—"

  "Well, good luck to you, I say," grinned Foxy. "You'll need it."

  "Well, we'll be on our way," said Ned. "Goodbye, Mr Fox."

  "Actually, don't know if I might just tag along . . ." said the fox.

  "What!" yapped Tuff.

  "Tag along?" said Ned. Beside him, he heard Dilly give a little groan. "No need for that, no need at all," he went on. "We can manage."

  "Think I will, all the same," said the fox. "You never know – I might come in useful. And I'd like to see a bit of monster-slaying, I can't deny it."

  There was an uncomfortable pause. Then: "Very well," said Ned. "Do, er, rag along then."

  "We're going monster-slaying!" chorused the animals as they set our again, bur rather half-heartedly this time. They all felt slightly uneasy about the fox and kept casting backward glances at him as he sauntered along behind the procession, his large white-tipped tail swinging.

  A SONG

  IT WAS HOT AND AIRLESS. They had been travelling for days and there still seemed so far to go. The food had run out. The sky was a strange yellow, and the river, which they had kept in sight for many a mile, dried up to little more than a shallow stream. Now the road was merely a dusty track which scored the earth, winding gradually upwards through the bare land. Apart from a few stunted trees and sparse bushes, there was no cover. And no sign that the knights had come this way. Perhaps, thought Ned, they hadn't made it this far.

  "The open plain," said Foxy. "Take my advice, friends, and hurry across. I've had most of my scrapes, most of my fur-raising adventures, across the open plain."

  With each step they took, they were saddened and troubled to see the devastation of the land. Far ahead, the shadow-cloud was larger and seemed to spread towards them, as if beckoning them on.

  "There's no denying it, Ned, lad, I feel a bit down," said Tuff. "This here land, it don't seem like land as we know it – seems kind of foreign, like, kind of frightening, like. Got to be honest, lad, it makes me feel-—"

  "Me too, dear," said Dilly in a rush, "It's a terrible place we're coming to. Let's change our mind, dear; it's not too late."

  "I'm hungry," said Piggy.

  "You're not the only one, Piggy old thing," said Tuff.

  "And when I'm hungry, I get uneasy," added Piggy. "And I've been uneasy a long while."

  "We're all together – not much harm can befall us if we're all together," said Ned.

  "They know nothing, poor fools," said the fox with a smirk.

  "Quiet, Foxy," said the otter. "If we're such fools, why are you with us?"

  "Curious, just curious, dear thing. To see where you end up. And how you cope when you get there."

  They carried on, following the dusty track towards the foothills of the high mountains; ahead, they could just make out the rounded shapes of a few sheep trying to graze amongst mounds of heather and gorse. As they approached, the sheep scuttled away.

  When the friends sat down to rest, Dilly looked about her nervously and Tuff put his nose between his paws. "Ain't got much heart to go on, to tell the truth, lad," he said to Ned. "Ain't got much heart for courage and dooty!"

  "What?" said Ned. "Why, you're the bravest dog I know. Don't say that, Tuff. Don't you lose heart, or I will too."

  They sat in silence for a while. Then Dilly raised her head. "Do you hear what I hear?" she said.

  "Well," said Tuff, "don't that put the heart straight back in a dog? Nuffing more normal or pleasant sounding than that, that's for sure."

  Filling the air with piercing high notes came the trilling song of a lark. Tuff stood up, his tail wagging.

  "How come such a small bird makes such a loud song?" he said. "Always wondered that. A song you can hear when the lark is too high even to see."

  "That's the best song in the world," said Ned. "Can't be much wrong with the world if there's still a sound like that, now can there?"

  And as they looked up, listening to the lark's song – the only sound in that silent stretch of land – they saw a swift movement and the tiny bird flew down and landed near a gorse bush.

  "Well I never did!" said Tuff. "You're a sight for sore eyes and no mistake."

  "Where you all off to?" the little bird asked, her head tipped to one side. She hopped nearer and perched on a twig. "Hope you know it gets dangerous further up. I usually see folks going in the other direction, not following that dark cloud. Except for those knights, that is."

  "You've seen the knights?" asked Ned eagerly.

  "Yes," replied the lark, shaking her head gravely. "But that was days ago and they haven't returned. No sign of them, no sign at all."

  Ned's heart sank. "They're meant to be slaying the monster," he explained, "and rescuing the princess."

  "We heard they were in trouble, Lark," said Tuff. "That's why we're here – on a sort of a quest, like; we're feeling bad about it, that's for sure."

  "Worse by the minute," said Dilly softly.

  "But we intend to go on and finish what we came to do," said Ned solemnly.

  The bird looked at them with her bright eyes, her head turning quickly from one to the other. "Brave or foolish," she said. "Perhaps both."

  "But what of you, dear?" asked Dilly. "Why are you still here? It seems there is no one left in this parr of the land – only some magpies, and we haven't even seen them for a while."

  "There are still a few of us birds about," said the lark, "but most of the animals have gone from these parts. They're all afraid of the monster – with good reason. It swoops down and carries off anything it sees. Most birds have flown down river where it's safer, and where there's still some green. But me – well, it's my home, you see. My family have lived under this gorse bush for generations."

  "It's not nice to have to leave your home," said Dilly, with feeling.

  "Home's home, I say," said the lark. "I'll not be moved from my home." She hopped up and down on a branch and trilled even louder. "And if you can do anything about that fearful monster, why, well all be grateful."

  "We'll do our best, that's for sure," said Ned.

  "But how?" Tuff looked at them in despair.

  "We're still hoping he'll come up with a plan—" started Otter.

  "But that boy never thought of a plan in his life!" finished Tuff.

  "We'll know when we get there," said Ned firmly. "What lies ahead, Lark?"

  "The track follows the stream round two bends, then climbs the lower slopes of the hills. Behind them is a range of rocks and then tall craggy mountains, reaching to the sky. That strange shadow-cloud hovers over them. Those crags are dark and scary places. I don't go near."

  "Oh, Ned dear . . ." started Dilly, but her voice faded as she looked at the boy's face.

  The lark gave a little trill. "You're a brave boy," she said. "Brave and foolish. But good luck to you, sir. I might as well go a little of the way with you."

  Ned looked at Lark. She tilted her head on one side and her bright eyes gleamed.

  "Thank you," he said. "We'd love to have you with us."

  Strange, how Ned started to feel a little braver with the tiny bird flying before him.

  THE MOUNTAIN CRAG

  NOW THE WAY BECAME HARDER AND HARDER, A STEADY UPHILL CLIMB. The dark cloud overhead was bigger than ever, but although the sun was almost invisible through the mist, it felt hotter than ever. They were all tired, hungry and anxious.

  And then they came to a stretch of land that was even more bleak, more barren than befor
e. The thin yellow stream wound through sedge, clumps of burned grass and misshapen alders, their knotted, exposed roots barely clinging to the sloping earth. The parched track was strewn with boulders.

  There was silence but for the sudden cack-cack of some magpies, high above them. They watched as four of the birds wheeled around and flew off in the opposite direction.

  "It's been a long time since we saw them," said Ned. "Never thought I'd say this, but I've almost missed those wretched birds – they make life seem a little more normal."

  "I don't like it," said Piggy. "Everything seems wrong, and I'm hungry."

  "Keep together, men," said Otter. "Close ranks!"

  Dilly picked her way along carefully and Ned held on tight. Tuffs ears were back and his tail down and he followed Dilly's hooves closely.

  All through the latter part of the journey Ned had felt a growing heaviness and weary dread. Now, finally, Dilly slowed down until she stopped altogether. All the animals came to a halt behind her.

  "Walk on, walk on, Dilly," whispered Ned in the pony's ear.

  But Dilly's sturdy body did not move. Tuff sat down firmly and gave a little growl. They gazed up at the mountains.

  "We must go on, Tuff," said Ned. "Come on, friends."

  At the back, Foxy sat down and yawned. "Well, well, well, well," he said. "What a surprise. A touch of nerves?"

  Ned frowned at him, then leaned forward again and spoke quietly in the pony's ear. "Dilly, we can't turn back. Don't let Foxy see we're scared."

  Eventually Dilly consented to move off. The shadow-cloud now hovered right above them, dark and menacing. Ahead, rearing up like a giant, was a strange, black, pinnacled mountain crag, higher than all the surrounding peaks. Ned saw a puff of pale smoke waft out of a dark shadowed crevice near the top of the crag; it hovered for a moment like a small grey cloud before dissolving in the air.

  Once more Dilly snorted and stopped. Her nostrils flared and her ears lay flat. All the animals behind halted again. There was another pale puff of smoke and a sudden acrid smell.

  They huddled together, wondering what to do. Then, in front of Dilly's hooves, there was a sudden bob of fur and a flash of white tail! A rabbit hopped out, stopped for a second to stare, whiskers quivering, and then was gone. Quick as a flash, without thinking, Tuff rushed off in pursuit. The rabbit disappeared into a small hole near the base of the crag.

  Immediately Ned jumped down and ran after the dog, grabbing his haunches just in time before he disappeared into the burrow.

  "Ow! Get off me!" yapped Tuffs muffled voice from the hole.

  "Tuff! I've told you before! No rabbits!" Ned tugged at Tuffs back legs and pulled him out. As he did so, he slipped on the earth and landed flat on his face. He sat up, trying to wipe off the mud, ignoring Tuff's scowl.

  All the animals laughed, Foxy a lot longer than the rest. Dilly felt a little better. "Oh, look at you now, Ned dear," she said. "You can't save a princess looking like that. Wipe your face, dear."

  Tuff continued to glare at Ned. "Nearly got that pesky rabbit till you stopped me!"

  "Oh no you didn't!" came the rabbit's squeaky voice from inside the burrow. "Nah nah na-nah nah!"

  Instinctively Tuff leaped up again.

  "Tuff!" cried Ned desperately. "We are not here to chase rabbits!"

  "Darn me! First bit of fun I've had on this awful journey, and you stop me!"

  "Why are you acting like this?" said Ned, angry for once. "We've more important things to do!"

  "Oh yeah? It's not as if we've got a plan!"

  Ned screwed up his face in frustration. For the first time he raised his voice. "Stop going on about it! We'll think of a plan—"

  "Don't quarrel! Please don't quarrel!" pleaded Dilly.

  Suddenly, even as she spoke, from the mountain came another puff of smoke, bigger than before. And this time it was accompanied by a terrible roar; then a sheet of flame burst from the mountainside!

  Ned nearly cried out. He clung to Dilly, who bucked and reared, while Tuff gave a piteous whine. As Ned craned his neck upwards, he saw something black begin to emerge from the crevice! There was another roar of flame, a billow of smoke and a fearful noise.

  These were followed by the spikes of huge black wings, then a long scaly neck; short legs, the feet tipped in pointed claws. Then the neck curved round towards them. Ned gasped when he saw the huge head: there was a long snout with flaring nostrils which streamed with smoke, gleaming orange eyes and a gaping mouth, showing the most vicious-looking teeth. Finally the monster's huge body was visible, ending in a long pointed tail!

  "Oh no!" cried Ned. He stared up in horror. "It's . . . It's . . . a dragon!"

  ALONE!

  THE DRAGON'S HUGE WINGS SPREAD WIDE, CASTING A SHADOW ON THE GROUND. The beast hung as if suspended, its wings scarcely moving. Suddenly, arching its neck, it gave a roar so chilling and so harsh that Dilly kicked up her heels and whinnied in fright! Tuff started a furious barking.

  Ned quickly clamped Tuff's jaws shut, but Dilly gave another terrified whinny. At this, the monster raised its wings and soared out of its cave.

  The wind caused by the vast wings rustled in the scraggy bushes and half-dead trees. Ned's hair lifted and, despite the heat around him, his skin felt chilled and his body trembled.

  Gazing fearfully upwards, he saw the dragon turn its head in their direction. The gigantic body twisted in the sky. With another horrific roar of flame, it started to glide down towards them!

  "Flee, Tuff! Flee, Dilly! Flee, my friends." There was a pause and then, in a mad rush, the animals fled. Mouse rushed down Ned's collar. The lark soared up into the sky and disappeared. Piggy gave a high-pitched squeal and his four trotters trotted as they never had before. The otter, and even the fox – all rushed off in terror.

  Ned let go of Dilly's bridle and, for the first time in his life, he whacked her hard on her flank. "Flee, Dilly!"

  Dilly reared up and galloped off down the hillside and into the bushes, whinnying as she went. Tuff's fur stood up on end. his cars pricked, suddenly tore oft into the bushes alter her. It pressed himself against the rock.

  The monster hung for a moment in the sky, watching the animals run. Then it gave another terrible roar, tipped its wings, gathered speed and followed!

  Ned's eyes scanned the hillside. He could no longer see his friends, only the dragon's diminishing form, head down, searching, searching . . . He watched and watched, praying for gentle, loyal Dilly and Tuff, his dearest friend, and for the other animals who had so courageously accompanied them on this foolish journey. He did not realize his eyes were wet. He did not realize his breath was coming in quick gasps. He was unaware of everything around him, his eyes fixed on the dragon.

  Ned watched until his eyes were sore, but he did not see the dragon land; after a while the spiky black shape disappeared from view.

  He sank down, exhausted.

  Tuff and Dilly, his two dearest friends, were gone. Oh Tuff, thought Ned. And we quarrelled – oh, what if I never see you again? He prayed that the dragon would never find them and that they would somehow find their way back to the palace grounds.

  The palace. Home. It was like a dream, the homely warmth of the stables, where he belonged, with gentle Dilly in her stall and the grumpy little dog next to her. But he was now alone in this bleak, barren landscape.

  Above him reared the black mountainside, the jagged rock stretching up so high that Ned could scarcely see the top. Fissures, cracks and seams etched its surface like scratches on jet. The blackness gleamed. Sharp edges jutted from the sides.

  Yet up there, somewhere, the Princess Bella waited to be rescued. He was sure of it.

  Ned got to his feet. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and laid his hands on the hard rock. "Up you go, Ned," he told himself.

  He scrambled for a foothold and pulled himself up. He was used to climbing his favourite elm tree, but he had never experienced anything as sheer and high as this. For a long time
he painfully clawed his way upwards. The fog swirled about him and the wind moaned. The ground below was very far away.

  "Don't look down," he said to himself, but even this thought brought a wave of dizziness.

  Ned stopped, gasping for breath. His feet slipped and searched and ached; his fingers throbbed with pain. His hands were twisted and frozen; they could not let go and they could not change position. He waited, and gradually he found he could move them; he shifted his weight and started his slow climb once more, hoping he would not be spotted by the dragon.

  At last, at last, he neared the summit.

  He paused, clinging like a martin to a wall. He was no more than this; he was less than this, for a martin could fly off and be free. He was a dot, a minute speck made of pale colours – faded brown leggings and oatmeal-coloured jerkin and straw-like hair. These were the only colours on that vast black crag, hardly visible, while all around spread the endless grey and black.

  Then he raised his head and saw, near the top, a gaping dark hole.

  The dragon's lair!

  INSIDE THE DRAGON'S LAIR

  NED HAD SCALED THE MOUNTAIN AND SCRAMBLED OVER THE LAST ROCK AND NOW HE LAY DOWN FOR A MOMENT BREATHING HEAVILY. He was on a stony ledge at the entrance to a cave, high up on the mountainside. He glanced down and wished he hadn't. The ground, far below, seemed to tilt and fall away. The shadow-cloud lay around him in strands of black mist, touching him as if with long dark fingers. Ned shut his eyes, feeling dizzy.

  Taking a deep breath, he looked into the dark hole of the dragon's cave. He was intensely aware that the dragon could return at any time. He shuddered as he remembered those terrible claws and teeth. Getting to his feet, he crept over to the entrance and tiptoed in.

  There was a harsh smell of cinder and something else, something foul.

  It was hard to see in the darkness, but gradually Ned's eyes made out the shape of the rock; the lair seemed to stretch on and on.

  He heard a noise and, startled, pressed himself against the wall.