wind on a wide curve, Spit Fyre wheeled across the harbor just above mast height and headed out over the harbor wall. Briefly the clouds cleared from the moon, and a gasp of wonder came from the quayside as the silhouette of the dragon with three small figures traveled sedately across the white circle of the moon and headed out to sea, leaving Milo gazing after them. Milo barked a few orders at the deckhands to clear up the decks and then disappeared below, leaving Nicko and Snorri on deck with the cleanup in progress.
"I hope they will be safe," Snorri whispered to Nicko.
"Me too," said Nicko.
Nicko and Snorri watched the sky until the distant speck of the dragon disappeared into a cloud and they could see no more. When they at last looked away, the deck was clean, tidy and deserted. They huddled together in the cold wind that was blowing in from the sea and watched as the lanterns of the Trading Post were extinguished for the night and the ribbon of lights stretching out along the shore became thinner, with only the flames of the torches burning. They listened as the sounds of voices quieted until all they could hear was the creaking of the timbers of the boats, the splash of the waves and the plink of the taut ropes on the wooden spars as the wind caught them.
"Tomorrow we sail," said Nicko, staring out to sea longingly. Snorri nodded. "Yes, Nicko. Tomorrow we shall go."
And so they sat, well into the night, wrapped in the soft blankets that Milo kept in a trunk on deck. They watched as, one by one, the stars disappeared below the incoming bank of clouds. Then, curled up beside Ullr for warmth, they fell asleep. Above them, the storm clouds gathered.
Chapter 19 Storm
B eetle was not sitting in the most comfortable position in which to ride a dragon. He was behind the wings and on the downward slope toward the tail, which meant that, because Spit Fyre used his tail to control his flight, Beetle found himself moving up and down like a yo-yo. He was, however, tightly wedged between two very tall spines and kept telling himself that there was no way he could fall off. He did not find himself totally convinced.
After Spit Fyre had taken off, Beetle had twisted around and looked back past Spit Fyre's massive tail, watching the boats in the harbors grow ever smaller, until they looked no bigger than tiny toys. Then he had concentrated on the twinkling lights of the Trading Post, strung like a necklace along the shore. Beetle had watched them grow ever dimmer and, when the night finally closed in behind them and the last faint glimmer disappeared, a feeling of dread had crept over him. He shivered and pulled his HeatCloak closer, but Beetle knew he was not cold - he was scared. Being scared was not something that had happened to Beetle before, as far as he could remember. He'd had moments in the Ice Tunnels, especially during his first few trips, when he had been a bit uneasy, and he had not felt too great in the frozen forest on the way to the House of Foryx either, but he didn't think he had ever felt the feeling of dread that was now sitting like a fat snake curled up in the pit of his stomach. Spit Fyre flew steadily on. Hours passed - which felt like years to Beetle - but his fear did not subside. Beetle now realized why he felt so bad. He had ridden Spit Fyre before with Septimus on illicit trips out to the Farmlands and once even up to Bleak Creek, which had been extremely creepy. He had even sat exactly where he was sitting now when they had all flown from the House of Foryx to the Trading Post, but he had always flown low and had been able to see the land beneath. Now, in the dark and high up over the sea, the great emptiness all around them overwhelmed him and made him feel as though his life were hanging by a thread. It didn't help that it was becoming increasingly windy, and when a great gust of wind suddenly caught Spit Fyre and sent him wheeling sideways, the snake in Beetle's stomach curled up a little tighter. Beetle decided to stop looking out at the night and focus instead on Septimus and Jenna, but he could