Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [205]
“It’s cold,” the dragon muttered, shaking. When he shivered, the grass around him shivered as well. “Think you might give me some room?”
Wataru took a step back.
“A bit more room than that. Say, back by that udai of yours.”
Wataru did as he was asked, and from a distance, he watched as the dragon took a deep breath, and, angling his neck back toward the lake, he breathed.
Wrrrooooooooarrr!
Wataru’s mouth gaped open. A great jet of flame came from the dragon’s maw, like a giant-sized flamethrower. The heat wave washed over the dragon, pushing its way up the slope to Wataru. He felt it on his skin like a dry wind—a moment of heat, followed by a faint singed smell.
That’s my hair burning.
“Dry at last, dry at last,” the dragon said gleefully, and gave his wings a mighty flap. His eyes were dry too. “You okay up there? Thanks a bunch. Your sword wielding could use a little work, but the long and the short of it is, you saved my life. And I thank you for that.”
“I d-don’t know about that,” Wataru stammered, his knees knocking together. The dragon moved lightly up the slope toward him.
“Where’d you come from, anyway? Where’re you headed to? You’ve got an udai. You a traveling merchant?”
“Uh, yeah, something like that.”
“Hrm. Then I’ll give you something you’re sure to appreciate in return for helping me out.”
The dragon lifted a claw—small in comparison to his large body—and plucked a bright red scale from the back of his neck.
“Here, take this.”
Wataru took the scale. It looked like it was cut from a precious gem.
“Bring that to Lyris, find yourself a good craftsman, and have him make you a flute. A wyrmflute! Blow upon it once, and no matter where you are, I’ll hear it. I’ll come flying and give you a ride on my back. We can go wherever you like.”
But there was a catch.
“Wyrmflutes are fragile things. You’ll only get one use of out it, so use it wisely, eh?”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure! And with that…”
The dragon waved goodbye, and began to slowly beat his wings. Gradually his speed increased as he went from an idle to full throttle.
The dragon’s thick hind legs were just lifting off the swampy ground when Wataru shouted, “Hey! What’s your name? I’m Wataru!”
“And I’m Jozo!” the dragon yelled back, his wings beating ever faster. “Descendant of the great firewyrm!”
Jozo took off. Wataru lifted his arms to shield himself from the mighty swirl of wind. The dragon was little more than a speck of red against the blue sky by the time the wind calmed down.
Wow! A real dragon! The only time Wataru had heard mention of a dragon in Vision was when Kutz had told him the story of the firewyrm. He hadn’t even suspected that dragons were things that spoke, flapped their wings, and fell out of the sky. Amazing.
He was so absorbed in thinking about the dragon that he didn’t bat an eye when he saw the small udai cart stopped at the edge of the lake. The flat bed of the cart was filled with small bottles. The rider had walked away, down to the edge of the Swamp of Grief. His hands were moving, doing something.
His hands are in the water!
Wataru shouted out, “You there! Stop! Don’t touch the water!”
His warning rang out like a bell across the lifeless lake. The man at the water’s edge shot upright and whirled around to look in Wataru’s direction.
Wataru galloped his udai out toward the water. As he approached, he saw the man snap to attention. He was wearing a hood that concealed his face.
Even as Wataru drew nearer, the man didn’t retreat. Wataru could feel his eyes observing him through the slit in his hood.
“Are you lost?” Wataru asked, dismounting. “If you’re thirsty, I have drinking water. Believe me, you don’t want to touch the swamp here.”
The man was wearing sturdy leather boots, a tight-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and pants, and a leather jacket with many pockets—typical traveling merchant garb. Wataru looked closer, and saw that the man was wearing sturdy