Flyte

The Dragon Boat was rapidly losing altitude. Septimus had just managed to avoid crashing into a small island overrun with chickensand that had taken the Dragon Boat's last ounce of strength. Now her head hung low, her eyes were dull and her one good wing was trembling with exhaustion.



"Tell her it's not far now. I can see the river," Septimus called to Jenna, who was murmuring a constant stream of encouraging words to the dragon. "Tell her if she can just keep going for a few more minutes..."



"We're awful close to the ground, Sep," muttered Nicko, peering over the side of the boat. They were skimming over a large area of bright greenwhich was a sure sign of the sinking Quake Ooze. "P'raps we ought to look for somewhere to crash-land."



"Like where?" snapped Septimus.



"I dunno. A flat bit I s'pose."



"A nice flat bit of Quake Ooze, you mean? With a load of Brownies in it?"



"All right, Sep. No need to get snappy."



Septimus's eyes were fixed on the river. "I justI just want to get her back safe. Whoaaaaaa!" The boat gave a terrifying lurch.



"Come on. Come on," Septimus muttered under his breath. "You can do it. Yes ... yes, you can."



Nicko willed the dragon on. He felt helpless, and feeling helpless on a boat was the worst thing in the world for Nicko.



Suddenly the deck tilted down ominously. "We're not going to make it, Nik," Septimus said flatly.



"Yeah, maybe not. Can you crash-land her?"



"Can't say I've tried recently. This is scary."



"I know."



The Dragon Boat dropped again and Septimus felt as though he had left his stomach behind.



"Going down, Sep," Nicko said grimly.



"Yep. Down wehey, hang on ... what's thatoh, that's all we need."



A small white cloud had appeared over the Marsh and was racing toward them.



"Simon doesn't give up, does he?" said Nicko. "And I don't suppose he's come to give us a hand. Oh, pigshe's fast."



No more than a few moments later the cloud was upon them, and a thick white mist had enveloped the boat.



"Can you see him, Sep?" Nicko's voice came through the cloud.



"Nowhere is he?" Septimus hung on to the tiller and stared grimly ahead, seeing nothing but impenetrable white and bracing himself for the crack of a ThunderFlash or the splash of the Quake Ooze.



Suddenly Jenna's voice came excitedly through the mist. "The dragon says she's being lifted up. She's being carried by the cloud."



As Jenna spoke, Septimus felt the whole boat relax. The shuddering with every beat of the dragon's wing disappeared, and the terrifying creakings and groanings that had accompanied the dragon's frantic attempts to stay airborne quieted. The only sound they could hear was the faint whoosh of air as the Dragon Boat was carried along.



"It's not Simon, is it, Sep?" Nicko whispered, somewhat overawed by the cloud.



"Noit's ... well, I don't know what it is. It's weird," Septimus replied.



"Umwonder where we're going?" said Nicko, spooked by the strange atmosphere of the cloud. It reminded him of something or someone, but he could not think whator who.



Septimus was a little apprehensive too. His feeling of relief had been replaced by a sense of unease. He did not like the control of the Dragon Boat being taken out of his hands. He moved the tiller from side to sideit swung loosely, uselessly, and had no effect on the boat now.



Again Jenna's voice drifted through the mist. "Stop messing about!" she yelled.



"What?" Septimus yelled back.



"The dragon says stop messing about with the tiller; we're going to land," came Jenna's answering shout.



"Where?" Septimus and Nicko both shouted.



"On the river, silly. Where else?" yelled Jenna.



Septimus felt the boat dip and tip forward. He held the tiller tightly, unsure of what else to doand suddenly he could smell the river. They were coming in to land and he could see nothing. Suppose they hit a boat? Or came in too steeply and sank? If only the cloud would go away and let him see where they were going. As if reading his mind, the mist rolled up into a small white cloud and shot off, back across the Marshes where it had come from.



Septimus paid no attention to where the cloud had gone; his gaze was fixed on the dark green water of the river, which was rapidly coming up to meet them. They were going too fast. Far too fast.



"Slow down!" he yelled at the dragon.



At the last moment, just before they hit the water, the dragon stretched out her wings as best she could, reared her head up and dropped her tail. She hit the water with a crash, bounced up and down and aquaplaned at full speed past a group of elderly fishermen who were known for their tall fishing tales. That night at the Old Trout Tavern they were not completely surprised when no one believed their latest story. By the end of the evening even they did not believe it.



The Dragon Boat finally slowed about half a mile up the river, just before a bend. She settled into the water, raised her good wing and spread it to catch the wind, but her broken wing trailed uselessly alongside and began to turn her in a circle, until Nicko stuck an oar over the other side for balance.



Septimus sat down wearily by the tiller and Jenna came to join him.



"That was great, Sep."



"Thanks, Jen."



"That cloud..." said Jenna. "Did it stop us from crashing?"



Septimus nodded.



"It was weird," said Nicko. "It smelled funny. Reminded me of something."



"Aunt Zelda's cottage," said Jenna happily.



"What? Where?"



"Nothe cloud. It smelled of boiled cabbage."



At Keeper's Cottage Wolf Boy had woken from a deep sleep, and for the first time since he had held Sleuth, his hands did not hurt. He struggled to sit up, trying to remember where he was. Slowly it all came back to him; he remembered 412 saying good-bye and he remembered the cottage, but he most definitely did not remember the enormous glass flask that was blocking the front doorway. Wolf Boy had never seen anything like it. Beside the flask was a huge cork stopper, and beside the cork stopper stood Aunt Zelda, anxiously peering around the flask out at the deepening evening sky. The flask was about the same size as Aunt Zelda and about the same shape too.



Aunt Zelda noticed that Wolf Boy had woken up; she went and sat down beside him with a sigh.



Wolf Boy gazed at her, bleary-eyed. "412 okay?" he mumbled.



"We can but hope," said Aunt Zelda, keeping an eye on the flask. "Ah ... here it comes!" As she spoke, a few tendrils of white mist wafted through the open door and into the flask. Soon the tendrils had become a long stream, pouring through the door and tumbling into the flask. Aunt Zelda jumped up and ran over to the massive flask, watching the mist stream into it and whirl around at high speed.



For some minutes the mist flowed in, filling the flask to the top. When the last tendril of mist had returned to the flask, Aunt Zelda drew a small bottle from one of her many patchwork pockets. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and dripped one drop of a brilliant white liquid into the mouth of the flask. The mist swirled into a frantic whirlpool and swirled itself into a small, white, marshmallow-like blob.



"Good."Aunt Zelda sighed. "It's Cloud Concentrate again." She picked up the huge cork stopper with both hands and shoved it into the mouth of the flask. Then, with the ball of Cloud Concentrate rolling around like a solitary marble, she pushed the giant flask across the floor, opened a large door concealed behind bookshelves at the end of the room and maneuvered the flask into a cupboard.



Aunt Zelda closed the cupboard door with a quiet click and went outside. Slowly she walked to the end of the island and looked out across the expanse of the Marshes, searching for any trace of the Dragon Boat. She saw nothingthere was no clue, no sign of what had happened to her. Aunt Zelda shook her head and hoped for the best, for that was all she could do, and retraced her steps to the Cottage. Now she was ready to deal with Simon Heap. Ready to send him on his Darke way and get that wretched boy Merrin out of his clutches before it was too late.



But as Aunt Zelda stepped onto the path she tripped over a solitary brown boot. She picked up the boot, saw straw from the thatch stuck in its eyeletsand she knew that, for Merrin, it was already too late.