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The Saint of Dragons: Samurai. Jason Hightman
Читать онлайн.Название The Saint of Dragons: Samurai
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007369577
Автор произведения Jason Hightman
Жанр Детская проза
Издательство HarperCollins
Simon swallowed hard, the reality hitting him. He looked at Aldric, whose eyes burned with anger. Alaythia got out of the Jeep and moved towards the man, bringing him the last canteen.
“Alaythia, please,” Aldric said quietly. “You can still catch this disease. Let Simon help him; his blood is stronger than yours.”
Simon took the canteen from Alaythia, who moved back, looking helpless and angry. The boy gave the man a drink from the canteen.
“It won’t do much good now,” said Alaythia and she looked at the translator. “But tell him it’s strong medicine. He may believe it. It may help.” And indeed, the man’s eyes brightened as he took the drink.
“Now ask him if there has been anything else unusual,” Aldric ordered.
The man told them there had been thousands of vultures gathered on the veldt outside the town before the disease struck.
“Thousands?” asked Aldric.
“And jackals as well,” the translator explained. “Many scores of them.”
“Where did they gather?” asked Simon. He knew, as his father did, that where there were ripples in nature, there were dragons.
“I know the place,” said one of the boys who’d led them. “You bring some of that medicine to my mother and I will show you where the scavengers settled, miles up the road.”
Aldric looked to Simon, who held the canteen.
“No, not him,” said the boy, pointing to Simon. “The woman must bring it. My mother will not be seen by men in her state.”
As the translation came, Aldric nodded, understanding. Alaythia needed no prodding; she took the canteen from Simon and followed the boy past some buildings to the first of several large, plain-canvas tents on the edge of town. The tents were left over from an old UN operation and had been set up as quarantine early on, the boy explained through the translator, who hurried to keep up with Alaythia.
Vultures and jackals stood waiting a few metres away. They had been hidden by the buildings. Their eyes followed her with interest.
Alaythia took one look back at Aldric and Simon, and entered the tent behind the boy. She heard the translator follow her with a rustle of the tent flap.
Inside, decorated blankets lay on the floor. Masks were hanging on the walls, while the sweet smell of incense filled the tent. Two old women lay in cots on either side of the tent and their eyes begged for mercy.
A teenage boy knelt between them and he greeted the first boy with a weary nod. The translator stood back at the entryway, seeming to apologise for disturbing the elderly women and perhaps explaining the necessity.
“I have medicine,” said Alaythia, but she did not move closer to the women.
The translator helped them exchange words:
“What do you ask in return?” asked the second boy, suspicious.
“We’re looking for something,” Alaythia answered. “We need a guide. But you can have the medicine even if you don’t help us.”
“You are looking for the Unseen,” said the boy, fearful.
“The vultures and jackals outside,” Alaythia said. “We want to know where they came from. There was a place they gathered on the first day …”and there would have been fire near there …”Do you know it?”
“What is there if you find it?”
“We are looking for two beasts. They are brothers and they work together. Very unusual. They are serpents but they look like men. They brought the disease to you …”They like to see suffering; they feed on it.”
One of the old women shifted in the bed and propped herself up on one elbow to get a look at Alaythia. But Alaythia’s own eyes were drawn to the flies that had gathered on the floor, rivers of them, hundreds, easing up from between the rugs. She began to tremble.
Outside, Simon had a bad feeling and began moving his horse towards the tent. Aldric followed. As soon as his eyes fell upon the masses of jackals and vultures gathering, Aldric knew. “The brothers. They’re here.”
Simon and Aldric spurred their horses towards the tent.
If they did not move quickly, there would be a new skeleton in the African sun.
Inside the tent, Alaythia stared at the two old women muttering at her in an unfamiliar language and she saw the healing fluid in her canteen bubbling over, boiling. She dropped it as the metal burned her hand. The translator tried to catch it, but burned his own fingers. He yelped and fled from the tent, cradling his hand.
“Uncareful magician,” said one old woman, hissing in English. “We have long awaited you—”
“Moritam kettisem sedosica,” cried Alaythia, spell-chanting. “Do not cast your fire, dragon – I have taken the power of your skin; you will not be armoured against the flame.”
“Lies!” cried the other woman, her eyes wild.
“You will burn with me,” warned Alaythia.
The two old women lunged at her, lashing their claws as they transformed into African Tall Dragons, each of them four metres of fury. Alaythia fell back and lifted a huge wooden mask for a shield as the first dragon sunk its claws into it.
The two boys had already darted away and now they ran directly into Simon and Aldric still on horseback.
Alaythia scrambled out of the tent as the first dragon, a fearsome black-and-brown beast called Matiki, pounced upon her, sinking its teeth into her armoured back, flinging his long black braided mane.
Aldric fired a crossbow shot into the creature’s head. It did no harm, but Matiki dropped Alaythia, who rolled free as the dragon’s twin, Savagi, lurched from the tent, scrambling towards her on all fours. Simon and Aldric both shot at the beasts – landing arrows in their arms and necks. The dragons roared in pain and turned to assault the riders.
Perfect, Simon thought. We drew them from Alaythia.
But his joy was quickly lost as Savagi leaped into the air, landing upon his horse, clinging to its neck. A huge snout stared him in the eye, and if the serpent hadn’t wasted time roaring in anger, Simon might’ve been crunched in its fangs. But his crossbow had one bolt left – and he shot it into the monster’s throat.
Savagi screeched and tumbled back, somersaulting to land a few metres away.
Simon’s horse jostled backwards in the dust.
Matiki had turned on Aldric and risen, man-like, to his full height. He slashed his long muscular arms, trying to get at the knight who kept his horse moving and stabbed back at the beast with his sword.
Simon looked at Savagi’s terrible yellow eyes and knew what was coming. The serpent reared its head back, its black throat swelling up. It was about to throw fire.
“NOOO!” cried Matiki, and yelled at his brother in Dragontongue.
“Listen to your brother,” cried Alaythia, who understood their words. “I’ve cursed your armour; you cannot burn your way out—”
“We have kept our magic from raging,” cried Matiki to his brother. “We have come too far. We need no fire to kill these swine—”
But Savagi’s rage was too much. Fire shot from his jaws.
Simon