The Fire Chronicle (28 page)

“And if the dragon doesn’t obey you?” Gabriel said. “What then?”

He means, Michael thought, what if I’m killed.

“Then you take Emma to Dr. Pym.”

“Let us go and find the wizard now, and return when your sister is well. There is no need to take such a risk as this.”

Michael shook his head. They had no way of knowing what had happened in Malpesa after they’d left. What if Dr. Pym had only slowed Rourke down? The bald man could already be on the trail of the
Chronicle
. Michael had been willing to risk abandoning the book when there was no other way of saving Emma. But now getting the book also seemed to be the surest, fastest way of waking up his sister. It was a chance they had to take. Even if it meant Michael going into the volcano alone.

And after all, he’d figured out the potions in Malpesa—he could do this!

In the end, Michael won, as he was right, and Gabriel knew it.

Gabriel knelt and pulled a knife from his belt. He said it had been a gift from Robbie McLaur, the king of the dwarves near Cambridge Falls. The blade was a foot long and surprisingly light and would cut through bone as easily as paper. It would also, both Michael and Gabriel knew, be useless against a dragon. Still, Michael thanked him and tucked it into his own belt. He felt better for having dwarf steel at his side.

“We have a saying among my people.” Gabriel laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “… A man can die only once.”

Michael wondered if this was supposed to be encouraging.

“I guess that’s … good to know.”

“You remember that first morning in my cabin? After I saved you from the wolves?”

“Yes.”

“You had betrayed your sisters to the Countess in hopes that she would help you find your parents. Do you remember?”

Michael stared at the ground. Did he remember? The memory haunted him. It was the single worst thing he’d ever done. By his own weakness and stupidity, he’d nearly lost what was most important to him—the love of his sisters. He couldn’t think of it without pain, and yet, in the eight months since Cambridge Falls, Michael had replayed what he’d done over and over, hating and cursing himself, and ending always with the promise that he’d never let Kate and Emma down again, no matter what.

“Look at me.”

Michael raised his eyes to Gabriel’s.

“Each day, by our actions, we decide who we are. You are no longer that boy. Your sisters are fortunate to have you as a brother. And it is an honor for me to call you a friend.”

Michael’s throat was too thick to speak. He could only nod his thanks. Then, wiping his eyes, Michael hugged his sister, crushing her thin arms against her sides, whispering, “I’ll be back soon,” and turned and followed the last Guardian down the stairs.

In the large ground-floor chamber, Michael stared at the mouth of the tunnel while the Guardian turned a crank fixed to one of the columns. A chain clanked, and the iron gate began to rise.

“She’ll know you’re coming.”

“She? The dragon’s a girl?”

“Oh, yes. Now, you’ll be safe as long as you’re the true Keeper. She serves the book, and the book serves the Keeper.”

“Okay.”

“If you’re not the true Keeper, she’ll most likely eat you.”

“Okay.”

“She might roast you first.”

“Okay.”

“Or just gobble you up.”

“I got it.”

The gate was up. Michael stood there, feeling the heat wash over him.

“Don’t close the gate,” he said, and started down the stairs.

It was just as in his dream.

The long tunnel …

The red glow in the distance …

The brutal, throat-scorching heat …

The difference being this was no dream, and Michael knew what lay ahead.

The tunnel had turned a few yards past the gate and now ran straight on and down. The porous black rock was warm to the touch, and there was a sulfury sourness to the air. At first, Michael kept his feet moving with thoughts of Emma, frozen atop the tower; but with each step, the pull of the
Chronicle
became stronger, and soon it alone was drawing him on. Then the tunnel began to climb, and there was a new smell, one Michael had never encountered, and he could think only that it was the stench of dragon.

Knowing he was close, Michael knelt down and, with trembling hands, pulled out
The Dwarf Omnibus
. There were several passages where G. G. Greenleaf had written about dragons, and Michael quickly found the relevant sections:

Michael snapped the book shut. He did not feel any better. He was about to rise when his thumb felt the stiff edge of the photo that Hugo Algernon had given him. He pulled it out, and there was his father, smiling up at him from deep in the past. Michael felt a hard knot of sadness in his chest. Would he ever actually meet his father? Would the day ever come when they would sit down, as Michael had often imagined, and talk about their love of all things dwarfish? When his father would tell Michael how proud he was of him? Crouching there in the reeking, sweltering cave, yards from a dragon’s lair, Michael thought that day seemed very, very far away.

Michael slipped the photo into the book and then, on a whim, flipped through and opened to a different page:

It was the quote that Hugo Algernon had said his father loved. It was the quote that Michael loved and tried to live by. He read on:

Michael closed the book and stood, feeling fortified. He slid the
Omnibus
into his bag, making room for it beside the gold
circlet he’d taken from the sculpture of the elf girl. He adjusted his glasses. It’s time, he told himself.

Twenty-seven nervous steps later, he entered the cavern.

Gabriel stood atop the tower. He had cleaned the mud from Emma’s cheeks and the last bits of fern from her hair. He couldn’t stop wondering if he’d done the right thing in letting Michael go into the volcano alone. Would the wizard have approved? After all this time, had he made a mistake when it mattered most?

Fifteen years earlier, Gabriel had almost died while fighting in Cambridge Falls. King Robbie McLaur’s dwarves had found him and saved his life. Later, while he’d been recuperating in his village, the wizard Stanislaus Pym had come to see him. He’d told Gabriel about the Dire Magnus and his hunger for the Books of Beginning and what it meant for the children.

“The enemy knows the children will lead him to the Books. He will hunt them.”

It had been autumn, the air cool and crisp, and Gabriel had just begun walking without crutches. The wizard had gone on:

“Our only hope lies in finding the Books first. I will do all I can, but I need someone strong at my side. Someone who cares about the children.”

Gabriel had been about to answer that he could depend on him, but the wizard had laid a hand on his arm.

“Understand what I’m asking. A war has begun. It will go on for years to come, and I will need you every day of that time. For all your strength, you are a man, with a man’s span of years. This
is the time you would find a wife, start a family. Know what you would be giving up.”

Standing there, in the forest above his village, Gabriel had thought of the life that could be his. Then he’d thought of Kate, Michael, and Emma, especially of Emma, who had touched his heart in a way he’d never thought possible.

“You are sure that finding the Books will keep the children safe?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am yours to command.”

He had never once regretted his decision. His only fear had been that he would somehow fail in his duty. And it was with that in mind that he turned to go down into the volcano, to seek out Michael and help however he could, when a crushing blow struck him across the back of the head.

The cavern was roughly circular in shape, perhaps fifty feet across, with a ceiling that rose into darkness, and a large pool of lava that occupied most of the cavern floor. A narrow ring of black rock ran around the base of the walls. On the far side of the pool, Michael could make out the mouth of another tunnel. There was no dragon to be seen.

Michael stepped to the edge of the pool, his eyes watering from the heat and fumes. He stared down at the bubbling surface and thought:

You’ve gotta be kidding.

The book’s pull was stronger than ever, and the source was, without question, within the pool of lava. The Order had put the
book in a pool of lava! He almost couldn’t believe it. Indeed, he wouldn’t have believed it if the force pulling at him hadn’t been so strong. And he had to admit, it made a crazy sort of sense. Assuming the lava didn’t damage the book—which had to be the case—the Guardians must’ve planned for the molten rock to serve as a final line of defense.

Great, Michael thought. But how am I supposed to get it out?

He started looking around for a long stick.

“Hello, Rabbit.”

Michael stumbled backward, tripping, skinning the heel of his hand on the rocky floor. A deep, feline chuckle echoed around the cavern walls.

“My, what a clumsy little rabbit you are.”

Michael jerked his gaze upward. He had an idea where the voice was coming from, and he could just make out a large silhouette against the darker rock of the ceiling. The dragon was hanging upside down like a bat.

“St-stay where you are! Don’t come down here!”

“The rabbit comes into my home and starts giving me orders? Where did you learn your manners? Also, you have a very funny nose. I can see it from here.”

This last was, undoubtedly, a strange thing for a dragon to say, but Michael was scrambling to his feet and didn’t notice. He’d had time now to take several deep breaths and remind himself that the dragon had to obey his commands. And as his initial panic subsided, a phrase of G. G. Greenleaf’s came back to him:
Dragons are immune to fire
. In a flash, Michael realized how he
was going to get the
Chronicle
—the dragon was going to get it for him.

Good old G. G., Michael thought, always there when you need him.

“You’re right,” he said, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, was all. I should introduce myself … my name is Michael P— Wibberly.”

“Puh-Wibberly? What an odd name.”

“No, just Wibberly. No P.”

“Well, Michael Just-Wibberly. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I don’t get many visitors.”

“Really?” Michael said. “It’s their loss.”

He was gaining more confidence with each second and, indeed, felt that he was carrying himself remarkably well. Look at me, he thought, just standing here talking to a dragon. He decided that after he got the
Chronicle
, he would have the dragon pose for a picture with him. He glanced around for a rock on which he could prop the Polaroid.

“Thank you, Michael Just-Wibberly. I want you to know that I’m going to remember how polite you were after I’ve eaten you.”

Michael said, “… Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m going to remember how polite you were after I’ve eaten you. That is the plan, you know.”

Don’t panic, Michael told himself. It doesn’t know you’re the Keeper.

“I’m afraid”—he was trying to maintain his confident tone—“you can’t eat me.”

“Aren’t you the cutest rabbit? But you’re wrong. I can and I will and I must. I don’t really have much choice in the matter.”

Michael heard the sound of iron-hard nails scraping on rock, the metallic slithering of scales. The great lizard was uncoiling itself from the ceiling. Michael felt suddenly, incredibly small. The idea arced across his mind that perhaps Gabriel had followed him into the tunnel and would now leap out to protect him.

Don’t be silly, he thought. You’re alone. Gabriel wanted to come, and you told him not to. Your own fault for being such a top-notch debater. Just stay focused.

“Listen, dragon”—it was time to adopt a sterner tone, such as one might use with a willful puppy—“there’ll be no eating me, you hear? You can’t! So just put that out of your head! I’m the Keeper!”

“The what?”

“The Keeper! I’m the Keeper of the
Chronicle
! That’s why I’m here! You’re supposed to get it for me!”

“Really?” The dragon seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yes! I need it to help my sister!”

“That was your sister I snatched from the clearing? I thought I noticed a family resemblance, though she seems to have escaped the tragedy of your nose. Now, do you prefer to be eaten raw or should I roast you a little first?”

“But you have to do what I say! The man—the Guardian—he said so!”

Laughter rolled about the cavern.

“That man and his lies! Let me ask you something, Rabbit.
Did he tell you what happened to the other members of the Order? Did he say why he’s alone here? With only me for company?”

Michael’s neck was starting to get sore from staring upward.