Dark Fire by D'Lacey Chris

Author:D'Lacey, Chris [D'Lacey, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult, Childrens, Adventure, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781408314197
Amazon: 1408314193
Goodreads: 26708357
Publisher: Orchard Books
Published: 2009-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

The Old Grey Dragon

“What now?” Lucy asked, as a few drops of light drizzle began to spot the windscreen.

Tam dipped into his jacket and pulled out a business card. He flipped it towards her like a folded banknote. “I’ve booked us in here.”

“The Old Grey Dragon?”

“It’s a guesthouse,” he said. “Bed and Breakfast. Right on the side of the Tor. It says in their blurb that on a still night you can hear the dragon snoring. I thought it might make you feel at home.” He paused, waiting for her to dip into her usual bag of cynicisms. Her fingers were stroking the picture of the dragon. “You OK, Lucy?”

She put the magazine back into the bag. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Beeping the sat nav again, Tam took the Range Rover on. They swept along a twisting country lane, further and further into the hills. By now the odd cottage was beginning to appear. A postbox fixed to a dry stone wall. Tractors, off road. Cows. A bicycle. The suggestion of life, albeit minimal. Then, as they crested a ragged stone bridge over a deeply-bouldered stream, Glissington Tor was huge in front of them, just like a strange green bubble in the earth.

Tam dropped through the gears and powered the car up and round the bottom of the Tor. The steepness of the ascent was making Lucy dizzy and she was grateful when, after a couple of bends, Tam swung off onto an access road where a large Victorian red-brick house, half-hidden by its sloping garden and the retinal branches of a cadaverous tree, awaited them.

“This is it,” he said, pulling up. He turned up his collar and quickly got out. Through her rain-touched window Lucy could see a flight of rough, weed-ridden steps, climbing through what looked like the sort of garden where people grew their own vegetables or herbs. She spotted a cloche and that settled it for her: they had come to a hippy house. Its deep-set austere windows were just visible beyond the slope, their glass crisscrossed with strips of lead. Nothing about the place appealed to Lucy, until she caught sight of a smoky grey cat tucked up in a furry bundle on the steps. It turned its head and stared lazily at her, more concerned with soaking up the pillars of sunshine that the tree and the rain had not been able to block.

Behind her, the rear door opened and Tam started pulling out their bags. “Lovely rainbow over the Vale. You going to sit there all day or what?”

He slammed the door shut before she could answer.

By way of reply she got out, marched round to the back of the vehicle, hoisted her travel bag onto her shoulder, stuck out her tongue at him, ignored the rainbow and mounted the steps. As she reached the cat, she crouched down to stroke its dewy fur. It stared fixedly ahead, unfazed by the contact, as if it had known her all its life. But when Tam approached,

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