The broad, flat surface of the Nest had become a yawning pit at the base of a vast, stony funnel.
The dragon had dug down to the bare rock. Now it crouched on the rock, in the centre of the pit, staring at the thing it had uncovered.
The thing was like a glowing, pulsating egg. It was a poisonous, flaring yellow, so bright that it seemed to hurt the eyes.
Its low, continuous song drilled into Lief’s ears. And from it radiated evil so intense that his throat closed and his skin burned.
‘Come to me, or I am lost.’
The dragon’s voice was very faint. Lief saw with terror that the rich scarlet of its scales was slowly dimming.
Without hesitation, without a thought, not even hearing Barda’s shout of alarm, he flung himself over the edge.
Tumbling and gasping he slid down through the piled stones, down into the pit where the dragon crouched.
He landed heavily near the beast’s hind feet. A mass of stones came with him, beating on the dragon’s folded wings, half covering its tail.
The dragon did not speak, did not move. There was not a quiver of its skin, or a twitch of a claw. Its great body was utterly motionless.
Lief tried to stand, and found he could not. The sinister song of the Sister of the East filled his ears and his mind. Its evil power battered him, beat him to the ground.
He could not stand. He could not walk. But the dragon lay rigid, fading as he watched. And the Sister of the East sang on, spreading its terror and its poison.
Lief began to crawl, being careful not to touch the dragon’s body as he passed it.
His breath coming in sobbing gasps, he pushed himself towards the poisonous yellow thing that radiated horror and despair, knowing only that the thing must be destroyed—that if it could not be destroyed, all was lost.
But moment by moment, his strength was draining away. His arms and legs were trembling as if he was in the grip of a terrible fever, yet he was chilled to the bone. He feared that soon he would be unable to move at all.
Hardly knowing what he did, he pressed his hands to the great ruby in the Belt of Deltora.
Warmth stole through his fingers, rushed into his arms. And he became aware of a new sound mingling with the low song of the Sister.
It was a slow, heavy thumping sound, like the beating of a great drum. And slowly Lief realised that it was the dragon’s heart.
The Belt … We are linked by the power of the Belt, he thought dimly.
Words flashed into his mind. Doran’s words:
The king, wearing the Belt of Deltora, is Deltora’s only salvation now.
Following an impulse he did not understand, but did not question, Lief lifted one hand from the Belt and placed it on the dragon’s cool, dry skin.
Instantly his fingers tingled, and his own heart swelled in his chest as he felt power surge through him, rush through his body like a raging torrent from the great ruby to the beast.
The dragon stirred. The dull scales beneath Lief’s hand brightened, deepened to rich scarlet. And Lief saw with wonder the patch of colour spread from beneath his hand, spread surely and rapidly until the whole mighty body was glowing like the ruby itself.
The dragon raised its head. Its red eyes flashed. Its heart beats crashed like thunder.
And still the power of the ruby streamed through Lief, and he could not have lifted his hand from the glowing scales even if he had wanted to.
He could not move or speak, but he knew it did not matter.
He was doing all he had to do. He was the link. He was the connection, between the dragon and the ruby, the ancient talisman dug from deep within the dragon’s earth.
The dragon fixed its red eyes on the pulsating yellow egg before it. It roared, and a narrow jet of flame gushed from its mouth, wrapping the egg in fire.
Again the dragon roared, and again. Bathed in fire the egg glowed red, then white. White hot, it shimmered, burning like an evil star.
There was a sharp cracking sound as its surface split. Its low song rose to a shriek. For a long moment, it seemed that time stood still.
Then the dragon hissed like a giant snake. And beneath a fresh blast of heat so intense that Lief felt in terror that his own flesh must melt, the Sister of the East flashed with white flame, then simply withered and fell into dust.
Lief closed his burning eyes. As if suddenly released, his hand slipped from the dragon’s side. He lay still, face down on the rock, his mind empty of thought, aware of nothing but the crashing of the waves above, and, beside him, the slow, steady beating of the dragon’s heart.
When Lief opened his eyes again, he found that he was no longer in the hollow with the ruby dragon. Or even at the edge of Dragon’s Nest.
He could hear the waves, but they were some distance away. He was lying on a sleeping blanket, in front of a brightly burning fire.
On the other side of the fire, Barda, Jasmine and Lindal were murmuring together. Firelight flickered on their faces, but their bodies were shadowy and behind them the light was dim, and strangely stained with pink.
At first Lief feared that his sight had been damaged by the heat of the dragon’s fire. Then he looked up.
The first thing he saw was Kree, perched on the tip of a jagged rock. Kree had returned at last!
Relief washed over him like cool water. Then he realised that Kree was silhouetted against a sky that was a riot of red and orange streaks, and he sighed with gratitude.
There was nothing wrong with his sight. The sun was going down!
Gingerly he sat up, feeling bruised all over.
‘You have certainly taken your time to wake,’ Jasmine said. ‘We brought you out of that pit and carried you away from the spray hours ago!’ Her voice was just as usual, but her face shone with relief.
‘The dragon—’ Lief broke off, wincing. His throat felt raw and scorched. He took the flask Jasmine passed to him, and drank gratefully.
‘The dragon is at sea, hunting for more fish,’ said Barda, putting aside the little locked box he had been playing with. ‘I doubt we will see it again before morning.’
‘And I am glad of that,’ Jasmine said. ‘The beast makes me nervous. It seems to like the look of my hair even more than the other dragon did.’
Lindal laughed, smoothing her smooth skull.
‘It likes mine not at all!’ she crowed. ‘Because it cannot see it! Which is exactly why it is a tradition for the women of my people to shave their heads clean.’
Then her face sobered. ‘In the old days there were many scarlet dragons in the east. I have heard dread tales of them from the cradle. Now one, at least, has returned.’
‘Without it, the Sister of the East could not have been destroyed,’ Lief reminded her.
Lindal nodded. ‘I know,’ she said ruefully. ‘And I know that because the Sister has gone, the fields of the east will be fruitful again, and the fisher folk will no longer come to shore with empty nets three days out of five. It is a cause for great rejoicing.’
She sighed. ‘But, still, it has come at a price. The dragon respects you, Lief, for you wear the Belt of Deltora. But I fear what may happen to the people of Broome when you move on. The mountains of the north are very far from—’
Jasmine gave an exclamation of annoyance, and Barda dug Lindal in the ribs. She clapped her hand over her mouth.
Lief’s heart lurched. ‘The mountains of the north?’ he exclaimed. ‘What—?’
Avoiding his eyes, Barda picked up the little box and began turning it over in his hands again.
‘No!’ rasped Lief. ‘You must tell me! What do you know that I do not?’
‘We had intended to wait until you were stronger before we told you,’ Jasmine murmured. ‘We wanted you to rest, just for tonight, and not to think about —’
‘Not to think about what?’ Lief roared, then groaned and grasped his aching throat.
Jasmine glanced at Barda. He shrugged reluctantly.