Tye had stood up. She was looking down at them, her face very serious, and Leo realised that telling the legend of her childhood had moved her more than she was prepared to admit.
‘Sleep now, young Langlanders,’ she said huskily. ‘You have had your old tale, and it is time to prepare for a new one. If we succeed tonight, there will be a sequel to the legend of the Tideseer.’
She lifted her hand to them and slipped away.
Mimi fell asleep almost at once after that, but Leo lay tossing and turning on the fern bed that had seemed soft when he first lay down, but now felt lumpy and prickly. The Tideseer’s thin white face kept floating into his mind, accusing him.
‘Leo!’ The voice was so quiet that at first Leo thought he’d imagined it. He opened his eyes and was startled to see Hal crouching beside him.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Hal said. ‘I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but this can’t wait.’
He stood up and moved away as silently as he’d come. Very curious, Leo got up and padded after him to the fireplace.
‘Conker has just told me that you took a magic mirror from the Castle of Cruelcliff,’ Hal said, when they were sitting side by side. ‘Do you still have it?’
Leo caught his breath. He had forgotten all about the ogre’s mirror. Instinctively his hand moved to his belt. The mirror was still there. He drew it out, and showed it to Hal.
Hal took the mirror and looked at it intently. The surface of the glass wavered, and slowly his reflection disappeared and a moving mass of green took its place. At first Leo thought he was seeing the ferns of the clearing stirring in the breeze. Then, as he looked more closely, the green mass separated into thousands of tiny, winged creatures clinging to the edges of what looked like drifting folds of green mist.
‘The Flitters,’ he breathed, watching spellbound as the green mist billowed, folded in on itself, sank out of sight and billowed again. He looked up at the fern-shrouded entrance to the hollow in the giant Nesting Tree. He had known the Flitters were spinning the magic web in there. He had accepted it – far more easily than once he would have accepted such a bizarre idea. But to see it happening – actually happening – was another thing altogether.
He looked back down at the mirror glass. The green image had gone.
‘What a stroke of luck,’ Hal said, turning the mirror over in his hands. ‘Leo, I can’t understand how you could have forgotten about this! Surely you realise what a powerful weapon it is? We can use it to spy on the queen, see where she –’
‘No!’ Leo burst out in panic. ‘You mustn’t use it, Hal – not on the Blue Queen. It’s too dangerous. When you’re watching her she feels it, and she looks for you.’
Hal raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘She may look, but that doesn’t mean she’ll find,’ he said. ‘I’ll use the mirror carefully, but I’d be mad to ignore it. Especially after hearing the Tideseer’s prophecy.’
He saw Leo’s confusion, and suddenly laughed like a boy. ‘You aren’t thinking, Leo!’ he said, holding up the mirror. ‘Don’t you see? This must be the “stolen magic” of the Tideseer’s rhyme – the magic that’s going to light up our darkness!’
Leo’s heart seemed to leap into his throat. Of course, he thought dazedly. Of course!
‘We’ll test it now,’ Hal went on. ‘You watch with me. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Look for any details that might help us.’
He’s right, Leo told himself. We have to do this. The more information we can get the safer we’ll be. Yet he felt a sense of dread as Hal held up the mirror and stared at it intently once more.
Their reflections faded. Shadows stole over the surface of the glass. Then the shadows cleared to reveal the Blue Queen pacing up and down in her tower room.
The queen was clearly in the grip of some strong emotion. Her teeth were bared, and the bones of her face showed sharply through her skin. Her white hands were clutched together so hard that her many rings were biting hard into the flesh of her fingers.
Leo saw her pass the magic mirror on the wall. It was covered by a shawl, as if the queen could no longer bear to see her reflection.
She reached the fireplace, and sick blue light flickered on her working face as she glared at the five containers on the mantelshelf.
Blue jar, blue bottle, covered black bowl, silver tin, small gold box… . The last time Leo had seen them he had not known what they meant. Now he did. There, in a neat line, were five of the seven strengths that were the ingredients for the Great Potion – the tide at its highest, the wind at its strongest, the web of a spider, the dust of a diamond, and the memories of the Ancient One.
Gnashing her teeth, the queen swung round to look at the throne-like chair that stood in front of the fire. The chair’s velvet seat was cluttered with small silver boxes. As if driven beyond her endurance, the queen snatched up the boxes and hurled them violently into the fire. Blue flames leaped up the chimney, and sparks showered the room. Ignoring them, she threw herself into the chair. Then without warning she froze, turned her head, and looked straight at the glass, her face a mask of fury.
Hal made a strangled sound, jerked the mirror downward and pressed it hard against his chest. ‘I see what you mean, Leo,’ he muttered, looking shaken. ‘Well, what do we draw from what we saw?’
Leo tried to pull himself together. ‘She’s obviously angry,’ he said, making a big effort to keep his voice even. ‘Those silver boxes she threw into the fire must have been the ones her squirrels stole from the Hobnob antique shop. She’d hoped the heart-shaped box would be one of them – hoped Spoiler had sold it while he was hiding in Hobnob.’
Hal nodded. ‘So she’s still looking for her own dragon’s heart. She’s failed to find another supply. That’s reassuring. While she’s angry, we’re safe.’
‘It’s strange.’ Leo frowned, thinking over what he’d seen. ‘She was in a rage the last time I saw her, too, because the dragon had brought her Princess Pretty instead of Sir Clankalot. But this time she seemed more than just angry. She seemed almost – desperate.’
‘She can’t bear to be thwarted, that’s all.’ Wearily Hal passed the ogre’s mirror back to Leo. ‘Take care of this. We’ll check on her again at sunset.’
Leo went back to the fern bed where Mimi was still curled up, dead to the world. As he lay down he remembered the Tideseer and wondered if he should have told Hal about his uneasy feeling that he hadn’t asked her the right questions. Then he shook his head impatiently.
What did it matter, really? Bertha’s question hadn’t been planned, but the other two had. Leo had asked them, and the answers had given them all the information they needed. It was stupid to worry over an old story – stupid to fret because the Tideseer might have wanted to be asked something else.
He tucked the ogre’s mirror into his belt and rolled onto his side. He had barely closed his eyes when sleep engulfed him, deep and thick with dreams of secret things coiling beneath the surface of dark water.
Perhaps he slept for an hour, perhaps more. He had no idea of how much time had passed when he was jerked awake by an explosion of crashing, tearing sound.
In confused terror he flung himself to his feet. He blinked groggily at the mass of broken branches in the clearing and the great, transparent shape that reared and plunged above it. He saw two crows lying crushed in the wreckage, and knew they were dead. His mind was echoing with a shrill clamour of voices like thousands of tiny bells.
Danger! Danger! Danger!
Sun was pouring down through a ragged hole in the forest canopy. The light in the clearing seemed mercilessly bright. The thrashing, colourless shape on the ground roared. Twigs, leaves, and ragged black feathers flew around it. Whirlwind, Leo thought stupidly. Cyclone…
Danger! Danger! Danger!
The voices of the Flitters rang agonisingly in his head. He clapped his hands to his ears in a futile effort to block the sound, which grew louder as four huge, striped beasts pounded into the clearing and pulled up abruptly, snarling in confusion.
The tigers were the guardians of the wood. They had never feared anything in their lives before. But they were dwarfed and daunted by the twisting, unnatural thing on the ground – the shapeless, wavering phantom that trampled great boughs like air made solid.
Then it was as if an obscuring veil slipped from the monstrous shape. Suddenly it was visible – dripping fangs, twisting neck, vast, spiked wings glittering green.
Dragon! The word rose in Leo’s throat and stuck there, choking him. He reeled as the mind-voices of the Flitters rose to a crescendo.
Dragon! Dragon! Dragon in the wood!
The tigers sprang, clawing and snarling. The green dragon bellowed at them, and fire belched from his jaws. Fallen branches exploded into flames all around him. The sad bodies of the dead crows were consumed. The tigers fell back, roaring, scarlet light flickering in their eyes.
The dragon lunged this way and that. Frenziedly his talons raked the blazing branches, tossing them aside. Embers and flaming twigs scattered, and the fire spread. The air began to fill with smoke.
In cold terror Leo saw Hal and Tye struggling on the ground on the other side of the clearing, masked by fallen timber. He guessed they had been resting by the fireplace when the attack came from above. Perhaps they had tried to run to safety, and a branch had come down on top of them.
The green dragon knew they were there. He must have seen them as he crashed through the forest canopy, then lost sight of them as the branches fell. He was searching for them, and soon he would find them. Surely they could see their danger. Why didn’t they get up and run?
Leo heard a sob beside him and swung round to see Mimi, her eyes terrified, her hands pressed tightly to cheeks that were still flushed with sleep.
‘He was invisible!’ Mimi choked. ‘She cloaked him – so the crow patrol didn’t see him – till the last – the last –’
The sound of her voice woke Leo from his daze of horror. They were standing in full view. Any minute the dragon would notice them. He grabbed Mimi and bundled her through the ferns, heading for the hut. As they reached the little shelter and ducked behind it, he could hear Spoiler shouting and blundering around inside.
The Flitters’ silent cries had changed.
Fire! Fire! The trees will burn! Save the web! Fly with the web!
‘No!’ Mimi wept. ‘Oh, no! No!’ But Leo knew she wasn’t talking to the Flitters, or to him. She was crying out in pure horror – the same horror he was feeling, because Flitter Wood, their sanctuary, had been so shockingly invaded, and its silence and safety destroyed.
And all he could think about was the mirror – the Blue Queen’s face filling the ogre’s mirror, and Hal’s grin, Hal’s enthusiastic voice.
Don’t you see? This must be the ‘stolen magic’ of the Tideseer’s rhyme – the magic that’s going to light up our darkness!
But instead the mirror had brought discovery, invasion and terror.
The dragon was still roaring. Half-carrying Mimi, Leo stumbled to the other end of the little shelter, wishing he had thought to pick up his boots. He peered around the corner. He was closer to Hal and Tye now. He could see that Hal’s leg was wedged underneath a heavy branch, and that Tye was struggling to lift the branch clear. Instinctively he let go of Mimi and started forward.
‘No!’ Mimi screamed, seizing his arm and trying to hold him back. ‘Don’t, Leo! There’s no cover. The dragon will see you!’
‘I’ve got to!’ Leo shouted, roughly shaking her off.
And at that moment he saw Conker, with Freda behind him, wriggling out of the undergrowth and crawling towards the place where Hal was lying. He saw Conker reach Tye, struggle with the branch, then half-stand to lift it aside.
The dragon’s head swung round. His swirling eyes fastened on Conker. His jaws opened in what looked like a grin of triumph. And as Leo’s cry of warning rang out, one of the great green front legs shot out, talons spread, and Conker was plucked from the ground.
Freda launched herself at the dragon like a brown fury, her beak stabbing uselessly at his leg, at the talons that curved around Conker like a cage.
The dragon lifted his head and bellowed. Fire roared from his throat, and as the trees around the clearing burst into flames, he launched himself into the air, his leathery wings fanning the blaze into a fury as he laboured to rise through the ragged gap in the forest canopy.
Then he was gone, and Conker had gone with him.