The Haunting Hour Page 4

  “Okay, let’s try it!” I cried.

  I grabbed Billy by the shoulders of his parka. “Let’s test this one out!”

  I think Loren and Fred and I had the exact same idea at the same time. Billy struggled, kicking and squirming. But the three of us picked him up—and heaved him, feet first, into the tallest snowdrift we could find.

  Before he could move, we started packing the snow around him. It was perfect packing snow, wet and heavy.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Billy cried.

  “We’re turning you into a snowman!” Fred exclaimed.

  We worked furiously. Heaving the snow over him. Shoveling heap after heap onto his shoulders, his head.

  “Can we talk about this?” Billy screamed. “You know I can’t stand tight places, right? Hey—stop! This is not funny. I’m freezing in here. I’m catching a cold. I can feel it already! Come on! Let me out of here!”

  The three of us laughed.

  It was pretty funny seeing the guy in such a total panic over a harmless joke.

  “It was your idea,” I said. “Don’t you want to test it? Don’t you want to see if you really can be frozen in fear?”

  “No! No, I don’t!” Billy cried.

  “Any last words?” Fred asked him.

  “Yeah. Get me out of here!” he screamed.

  Then we covered his head.

  We poked some holes near the top for air. Then Loren found two perfect round stones for eyes and a bent twig for a nose. Fred and I scraped and molded the snow to round it off like a real snowman. And we packed it even tighter. Loren finished the job by tying her scarf around the snowman’s neck.

  “Yo, Billy, how’s the weather in there?” I called. “How’s it going, big guy?”

  He didn’t answer.

  The three of us stepped back to admire our work.

  “Good job!” Loren cried. We slapped high fives with our wet, snowy gloves.

  We expected Billy to come bursting out, roaring and flinging snow at us. He could break out easily, I thought. I mean, how hard is it to knock snow away?

  But he didn’t move.

  He just stood there, still as a snowman. The two stone eyes stared out at us.

  “Hey, Billy?” I called.

  Silence.

  “Billy? Hello?”

  A long, eerie silence.

  “Billy?” I called.

  No answer.

  Fred laughed. “He’s just trying to freak us out.” He pulled my arm. “Come on, Rick. There are some kids with sleds on that hill. Let’s check ’em out!”

  As we jogged over the snow, I glanced back. Billy still hadn’t moved. What was he waiting for?

  “Hey—American Flyers!” Fred shouted to some little kids. “Can we have a turn?”

  How long did we sled? I’m really not sure. The afternoon sun was sinking in the sky. Long blue shadows stretched over the snow. We returned the sleds to the other kids and Loren and Fred went home.

  Then I suddenly remembered Billy.

  Rubbing my frozen cheeks, I made my way down the hill—and saw the snowman standing just as we’d left it.

  Oh, no! I thought. Then I ran up to it and shouted, “Billy? Billy?”

  We had forgotten all about him.

  My breath caught in my throat. My whole body shuddered.

  Was he frozen in there?

  It was just a joke. Had we really done something horrible to the kid?

  No! Please—no!

  I grabbed the snowman’s head. “Billy? Hey—answer me! Why don’t you answer me?”

  The snow was packed tight, like concrete. I dug my gloves in and began frantically pulling it off in big chunks.

  “Billy? Can you hear me?”

  Flinging snow everywhere, I quickly ripped away the front of the snowman. I clawed the packed snow loose and batted it to the ground.

  “Billy? Hey—Billy?”

  Furiously, I batted more snow off the round body.

  There was no Billy inside.

  I staggered back. Where is he? I asked myself, staring at the chunks of snow on the ground. He couldn’t have climbed out. The snowman had been standing just as we left it.

  A chill shook my body. I pulled my coat tighter but I couldn’t stop shivering.

  And then I heard a soft whisper from behind me. “Rick—you froze me. You FROZE me!”

  “No!” I gasped.

  I spun around. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I can’t see you!”

  Silence.

  Just the sound of the wind, brushing snow off the tree branches.

  Then the whisper again: “You froze me, Rick.”

  And Billy stepped out from behind a tree.

  Head down, he moved toward me, lurching, staggering in a strange slow motion.

  And then slowly, slowly, he raised his head—and I saw his face. Crusted with ice. Patches of snow clung to his hair and eyebrows. Icicles hung from his cheeks, his chin.

  I opened my mouth in a scream of horror.

  Billy kept staggering across the snow toward me, his gloved hands outstretched as if ready to grab me. “Rick, you froze me. You froze me to DEATH!”

  My teeth chattered. Chill after chill ran down my body. I stared at Billy, frozen in fear.

  And then I felt something snap.

  Something in my brain.

  Just a soft pop.

  I tried to move. I tried to cry out.

  But I couldn’t.

  My legs, my arms—they wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t open my mouth to scream. I couldn’t even blink my eyes!

  I stared straight ahead.

  Billy came closer. Closer. “Rick—what’s your problem?” he asked.

  I could see him and I could hear him clearly. But I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move my lips or make a sound.

  And then I remembered Billy’s words…“You can be so frightened, your body freezes—forever.”

  “Come on, Rick,” Billy said. “The joke is over. I’m okay. Really. Look. The ice and snow—I put it on my face to look scarier. See?”

  He pulled a chunk of ice off his cheek.

  “Rick—snap out of it,” he said. “I’m fine. I waited till you guys left. Then I smashed my way out of the snowman. No big deal. You were busy sledding. You didn’t see me break out. You didn’t see me rebuild the snowman.

  “I put it back together,” he said. “Then I hid behind a tree and waited for you to come back.”

  His hand squeezed my shoulder. I could feel it, but I couldn’t move. He waved his hand in front of my face. But I couldn’t blink. Couldn’t move my eyes.

  “Hey, Rick—you’re kidding, right?” he asked. “Give me a break. Say something. Did you like my joke? It was good, right? Did I scare you? Come on, Rick—did I scare you?”

  How to Bargain with a Dragon

  INTRODUCTION

  ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES BURNS

  A lot of my story ideas start with the question: What if…?

  This story began with the question: What if dragons were real?

  I have always been fascinated by the giant winged creatures. In stories and movies and drawings, dragons have always seemed very real and alive to me. They are fierce and majestic at the same time. Ugly and beautiful. And so much more intelligent than dinosaurs.

  I know they are mythical. I know that dragons never existed.

  But what if they did?

  This is a story about a boy on a terrifying mission. Ned is about to face the fiercest dragon of them all—and he will soon learn the answer to that awesome question.

  On a summer day long ago, when birds as big as clouds flew the skies, a boy named Ned journeyed through leafy forests and over green, grassy hills. Ned carried only an apple in his knapsack and a crude, hand-drawn map of the kingdom.

  His peasant smock was sweat stained and wrinkled. His long brown hair fell in damp tangles from under the red cap tilted over his suntanned forehead. His brown laced boots were scuffed and scratched, the sol
es as thin as paper.

  As he walked, Ned whistled to keep himself company. The journey was long, and he had no idea of what terrible dangers he faced at journey’s end.

  As he neared his destination, Ned’s legs began to tremble, and chill after chill tightened the back of his neck. His mouth became too dry for whistling. He knew that soon he would be meeting Sir Darkwind, the greatest Dragon Master in the kingdom.

  Ned had long dreamed of this day. But now, through the trees, he heard the groans and bleats of the dragons in Sir Darkwind’s stable. And Ned wondered which would prove more fierce and menacing—the dragons or the Dragon Master?

  He pulled off his cap and mopped his forehead with the sleeve of his smock. “Courage,” he murmured to himself. “Be strong and brave. Or you will never reach your goal.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ned stepped out of the forest and stared at the Dragon Master’s house across a field of dirt and stones.

  Was it a house or a fortress?

  Built of white stone, it rose up like a gleaming mountain in the afternoon sun. Ned saw a narrow door at one end—the only opening. There were no windows!

  To the left of the house stretched a tall stone wall at least four times as tall as Ned. Ned gazed in amazement at the faces staring back at him from above the top of the wall.

  Broad creature faces on long, scaly, sun-wrinkled necks. Black eyes as big as plums, staring from deep sockets. Ancient, long-toothed faces, craggy and lined with wisdom—and sadness.

  Dragons.

  Up till now Ned had seen them only in the Sorcerer’s ancient books. Gazing at the amazing creatures, Ned remembered the Sorcerer’s stories of how the dragons had once moved freely around the kingdom.

  “The dragons are a proud and wonderful species,” Margolin had said. “They have their own customs, their own habits. Do not be fooled into thinking they are like other animals. Their wisdom is as big as their size. Why are their eyes so sad? Because they have seen everything.”

  Now the old dragons curled their long necks over the stone wall and gazed at Ned in silence. He could hear the heavy thud of their feet as they shifted their weight. A pale-yellow dragon on the end coughed, a wet cough from deep in its throat.

  Their eyes are not welcoming, Ned thought. They gaze at me as if I’m their next meal. But dragons are not meat eaters—are they?

  Ned struggled to remember what the Sorcerer had told him. The old dragon coughed again, spewing yellow liquid over its craggy snout. Another dragon, slender faced with bulging black eyes, let out a long, menacing growl.

  Ned took a few timid steps closer to the stone fortress. The dragons tensed as he approached the wall.

  And then two dragons shot out their huge heads at him, roaring furiously. The sound was like thunder in his ears. The wall appeared to shake.

  With a frightened cry Ned fell onto his back. The dragons’ hot breath swept over him. He turned on his stomach and frantically crawled away.

  The dragons’ heads swung low over the wall, stretching toward him, snapping furiously.

  When he was at a safe distance, Ned scrambled to his feet. He brushed the dust off his clothes and straightened his cap.

  The dragons stared at him in silence now. Waiting to see if he would approach again.

  But Ned kept his distance. The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Sir Darkwind! Sir Darkwind, a humble peasant boy wishes to speak with you.”

  To Ned’s surprise the door creaked open. A dark-robed figure stood half hidden in the doorway. He did not step out.

  “What do you want?” he called. He had a high, boyish voice.

  “I have come to see the great Dragon Master,” Ned said. “To ask a favor.”

  “I am Gregory, Sir Darkwind’s servant,” came the reply. “Sir Darkwind does no favors.”

  Ned swallowed, his mouth as dry as straw. Had he come all this way for nothing?

  “I bring the best wishes of the great Sorcerer Margolin,” he called. “Perhaps if Sir Darkwind would come outside and give me a moment—”

  “We don’t know any sorcerers,” Gregory sneered. “And Sir Darkwind seldom comes out of his house. Only to whip the dragons to keep them in their place.”

  Ned squinted at the figure of the servant, still hidden in the shadow of the doorway. “He never leaves his house?”

  “No,” came the reply. “He has too many enemies.”

  Behind the stone wall the dragons growled and groaned. A fierce-looking creature with curled horns on its gnarled head lowered its head and battered the wall.

  “Go away! You are upsetting the dragons!” a deep voice bellowed from inside the house.

  Ned saw another figure move into the doorway, shoving the servant aside. Even from a distance Ned could see that this man was tall and wide, his white robe billowing around him.

  The sight of him sent shivers down Ned’s back. It was known far and wide that Sir Darkwind was the cruelest man in the kingdom. Even the Sorcerer Margolin, with all his powerful magic, had feared him.

  “Are you the great Dragon Master?” Ned asked. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I am a humble peasant boy, grand sir. I come to beg for work.”

  “You want to work for me, boy?” Sir Darkwind roared. “What do you know about these beasts?”

  They are not beasts, Ned thought. Yes, they are fierce creatures. But they have the wisdom of the ages. Even I know that.

  But he did not correct the Dragon Master. Instead, he said, “I am a fast learner, sir. I need work badly. I have five brothers and sisters, and my family is poor. My father’s foot was crushed under a wagon wheel. Now they all depend on me for their bread.”

  “Tsk tsk,” the Dragon Master replied sarcastically. “Am I supposed to cry for your ill fortune?”

  Dragons grunted and growled. High clouds rolled over the sun. Inside the house Sir Darkwind appeared to go deeper into shadow.

  “Have you worked before, boy?” the Dragon Master asked.

  “Yes, Sir Darkwind. I was apprenticed to the Sorcerer Margolin,” Ned replied, still on his knees. “But I was forced to leave that job. After Margolin had a terrible argument with another sorcerer, they both suddenly vanished.”

  “Good riddance,” Sir Darkwind said. “The world doesn’t need sorcerers. A good strong whip is the only magic I need!”

  Ned climbed to his feet, brushing dirt off the hem of his smock. “It would be an honor to work for you, Sir Darkwind. Everyone knows you are the greatest Dragon Master in the world!”

  A sharp laugh escaped Sir Darkwind, more like the bark of a dog. “I am the only Dragon Master!” he bellowed from the darkness of his doorway. “These are the last dragons to survive. The last in the world.”

  “I would be honored to help tend to them,” Ned offered.

  Sir Darkwind laughed again. “You would swing the whip to help teach them their manners?”

  “No, sir. But—”

  “What then would you do?” the Dragon Master shouted. “What is your bargain? All of life is a bargain. That is the one truth that I have learned. So what is your bargain, boy? What bargain do you wish to make with me?”

  Ned stared openmouthed into the dark doorway. “I have no answer,” he said finally. “I offer myself as a humble worker.”

  He saw Gregory, the black-robed servant, return to the doorway. He and the Dragon Master had a hushed conversation. As they talked, the clouds rolled away from the sun. Behind the wall several dragons raised their heads to the sunlight.

  “Come a bit closer, boy,” Sir Darkwind ordered. “I have a bargain for you.”

  Ned took a few steps toward the house. He still couldn’t see the man clearly. He could see only the wide expanse of his white robe.

  “There is one dragon still roaming free,” Sir Darkwind announced. “One dragon not in my collection. And I want them all! All! Here is the bargain I will make with you. Bring the last free dragon to me, and I will make you my apprentice.”

  Ned
uttered a startled gasp. “Capture a dragon?” he cried. “But how? It will breathe fire on me, and I will perish.”

  From inside the house Gregory laughed.

  “Fool! Dragons don’t breathe fire,” Sir Darkwind boomed. “That is a fairy tale.”

  “But—I have no weapon to use against a mighty dragon!” Ned cried.

  “And I have none to give you. You must use your wits, boy,” the Dragon Master said.

  “How did you capture all these dragons?” Ned asked, pointing to the fierce creatures watching from the stone wall.

  “I made a simple bargain with them,” Sir Darkwind replied. “I told them if they came to stay here, I wouldn’t kill them and use their meat for dragon stew.”

  Some bargain, Ned thought.

  “Listen to me carefully, boy,” the Dragon Master called from the darkness of his doorway. “The last free dragon is called Ulrick. It lives in a cave on top of Stone Hill. If you capture this dragon and bring it to me, my collection will be complete. I will give you a job so that your family can eat.”

  “But—but—” Ned sputtered.

  Sir Darkwind disappeared into his house. The door slammed hard.

  Behind the wall the dragons all began to shriek. Several of them snapped their jaws at Ned. A very young one, still green and slender, raised its head and uttered a high wail that sounded like crying.

  The afternoon sun was high in the sky as Ned began to walk back through the forest. Waves of heat rose up from the ground, making the trees appear to bend and shimmer.

  Stone Hill, a steep-sloped mountain of smooth gray rock, led to a high cliff. Ned knew that deep caves were cut into the sides of the hill.

  No one ever explored those caves. People were afraid of the fierce creatures that lived inside.

  What weapon can I use to battle a dragon? Ned asked himself. The dragon will have talons a foot long and teeth the size of tree stumps. How can I make a bargain with a dragon like that?

  The sun beat down on him, making him feel as if he were melting. He stopped in the shadow of tall ferns to catch his breath.

  He thought of the cruelty of the Dragon Master. How he whipped the old dragons. How he kept them prisoners in that walled pen.