Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,37

back. The hairy carpetbag, minus Oswin, was handed to them by an elf. It all happened so fast Willow didn’t get a word in.

‘Well, I say!’ protested the dragon as several wind monkeys pressed against his hindquarters, encouraging him to take off with his cargo. ‘First we’re kidnapped, then we’re asked to kindly push off?’

‘Oi, enough o’ that,’ yelped Oswin as the wind monkey, who was rather enamoured with him, tried to give the kobold a large squeeze round the middle.

‘Nice kitty,’ it whispered, patting his head.

‘Fer the LAST TIME, yew infermerol beast, I is NOT a cat! I IS THE MONSTER FROM UNDER THE BED!’ growled Oswin, turning bright orange, steam coming off his ears. He shot away from the monkey, skittered on to the dragon’s back and dived into the hairy green bag.

‘Quite right, Oswin,’ roared the dragon. ‘No respect! I am not the sort of beast who longs for the “good old days”. HOWEVER, if this were a thousand years ago, I wouldn’t have given a second’s thought to eating you all … But I am a beast of honour, even if you creatures are not.’ Smoke curled from his nostrils, and he hissed in his windy voice, ‘THOUGH, if you prod me one more time, monkey, I may just CHANGE MY MIND.’

The wind monkey seemed to swallow and stepped back, making a low trilling sound, as the dragon launched himself into the air. Sprig followed close behind.

Feathering picked up speed, clearly wanting to put as much distance as he could between them and the forest of Wisperia.

‘That was just so weird,’ said Essential.

Willow nodded. ‘So weird.’

‘I had this strange feeling that she wanted to say more – like the flame-haired man was stopping her from speaking,’ whispered Essential.

‘I thought so too.’ Willow shook her head. ‘I wish I knew what language they were using.’

There was a mumble from the hairy carpetbag.

‘Pardon?’ asked Willow.

She could see Oswin’s eye looking at her through the hole in the bag. ‘Lurole.’

‘Loo roll?’ said Essential with a giggle.

There was the tinkly sound of laughter from the dragon. ‘Liral,’ he corrected, snorting. ‘The first language – the oldest in Starfell.’

Willow gasped. It was centuries old. It was said that the people who had spoken it had all died out long ago.

‘The forest is as old as Starfell itself. Magic came there to hide after the Long War, when it was almost stamped out by the Brothers of Wol. Wisperia has kept many secrets. Perhaps it is not so surprising that some of its inhabitants still speak Liral,’ said the dragon.

‘Did you understand what they said?’ asked Willow, leaning towards the dragon’s ear.

‘Not all – I’m very rusty. When I was young, there were still a few dragons who spoke it when they needed to trade with the old magicians or settle territorial disputes without fire – which back then wasn’t often, fire being the top choice,’ he admitted with a hollow laugh. ‘Old beasts, you know. But I did catch something … Something about the darkness, or shadows … Mirali. I can’t quite recall the exact translation, but I think it’s “death promise” or something.’

Willow had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.

The dragon’s golden eye followed the raven as he sped on ahead, leading them towards the town of Library. ‘He might know, though.’

Willow frowned. ‘Sprig?’

‘It looked like he understood them, the way he was listening. Didn’t you think it was strange how he never said a word?’ asked Feathering.

Willow shared a look with Essential. ‘I don’t think so, Feathering. If he knew, he would tell us. He’s only trying to help. Besides, he can’t speak when he’s in raven form. He said that the magic doesn’t affect him as much when he’s transformed, so maybe that’s why he stayed as a bird.’

There was a low grunt from within the carpetbag. It seemed the kobold wasn’t so sure.

16

A Town Called Library

They flew for some time, past Wisperia and the floating Cloud Mountains, and over a long winding river. Willow and Essential had managed to strap themselves to Feathering with some strong tree vine that Sprig brought them from the forest, and so they managed a few hours’ sleep.

Around lunchtime, they awoke to Feathering’s triumphant cry, ‘We’re here!’

‘That must be Library!’ Willow said as they neared a town that seemed, from up high, to be made entirely of books.

‘Oh NO, it’s even more ’orrible than I remembered,’ whispered Oswin. This was followed by a loud sneeze.

The thing that Willow