Goldenscale

Saturday 8 April

Epilogue the Second

Uncle Henry did visit her the next day, or the one after that — she was having difficulty keeping track. Hearing of trouble in Goolgoorook, the old fox had returned from Patagonia early. ‘Too many mosquitoes and not enough bourbon,’ he said.

They chatted about the nurses and the weather, but something about his expression told her he expected the truth, sooner or later. Get in the queue, she thought.

‘Some secrets are too big for one person,’ he whispered. ‘I know you had something to do with that.’ He pointed at the television, and the ruins of Hemming Heights. ‘I knew something strange was going on before I left.’

‘I didn’t do it,’ said Beth.

Henry passed her a glass of water. ‘I don’t believe in the world we see,’ he said. ‘I think there’s something stranger beneath the surface. And I think you were granted a glimpse of that.’

She suddenly recognised the envy and regret in his voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But you were right. It was only a glimpse.’

The last word she spoke triggered a powerful and unexpected memory, words and images floating up. She shivered and spilled half her drink as it was about to meet her lips. ‘Moonlight …’ she croaked, dribbling embarrassingly, ‘what’s the moon tonight? The phase, or whatever?’

‘Almost full, I think …’ He consulted his smartphone. ‘Here we go. March the fourth. Full moon.’

She sat up straight, ignoring the protests of her hip. ‘I have to get out of here tonight, Henry.’

Her uncle opened his mouth, looking dismayed. ‘No … why?’

‘Someone made me a promise. I only just remembered. So many things have happened, and I forgot. Can you help me?’

‘Your mother …’

Nick and Abbie were at home with Sam, leaving Beth to entertain herself.

‘Henry, it’s a part of the secret. Secrets are too big, remember? You want to see what I saw? Then help me, come with me!’

He hesitated.

I’m getting too good at manipulation, Beth thought. But I learned my tricks from a master.

Her shoes proved almost impossible to find. Henry spotted them in a bag under a pile of blankets. She shrugged on a jumper.

She finished getting dressed while Henry acted as sentry. All traces of humour had disappeared from his face. ‘Your parents will never talk to me again.’

‘I’ll say I made you do it.’

‘Fourteen year old girl kidnaps middle-aged uncle. Yes, I can see that working.’

‘Did you want to see the world beneath this one?’ Beth asked. He could only nod.

\

Beth left a note on top of her pillow, swearing under her breath that this would be her last disobedient act.

Mum, Dad, back soon. Have gone with Henry to buy ice cream. The stuff here is rubbish. Love, the Reformed Delinquent. Don’t Worry!!

They moved casually down bare and dim hospital corridors, attracting scant attention. The duty nurse didn’t look up from her computer screen, and then they were out into the car park.

The night was warm and alive with the buzzing of cicadas. A gentle breeze blew in from the east. Beth felt better than she had in many days.

‘A good night for it,’ said Henry as he started the car and accelerated. ‘Whatever it may be.’

Soon enough they rolled to a stop in a roadside rest area. A full moon shone through leafy trees. Beth knew the trail well, and warned her uncle away from low hanging branches.

Pride forced Beth to walk without a limp, and disguise her discomfort. They scrambled across gently curved granite boulders, always moving upward. Henry followed close behind, his breathing a little unsteady. Eventually there were no rocks ahead or above, just starry skies, fields and darkened valleys far below.

Beth sat down carefully, only wincing a little. She was facing west, the lights of Goolgoorook obscured by low hills. She’d never climbed Mount Jugamai at night. By now her eyesight was well adapted to the dark.

Henry grumbled a bit, then sat beside her. ‘Very interesting, I’m sure. An absolute surplus of stars up here.’ He cleared his throat. ‘A little while, that’s all, then we have to get back. Or my life will be under threat from your parental units.’

‘Melodrama,’ said Beth. ‘We won’t have to wait long,’ she added with an assurance that she did not feel.

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, Henry grunted sharply, as if he had been hit. He stood and pointed towards the moon, and the eucalypt forest below. ‘Something—’ he said, but got no further.

A dark form blotted out stars and threw a long shadow over Precipice Creek, scudding along like a wind-driven scrap of cloud. Turbulence carved a vee shaped wake across treetops, branches pushed aside like parted hair.

‘It’s him,’ Beth whispered, too quietly for her uncle to hear. An impulse to run flashed down her spine, but it was too late. Goldenscale dived on them, massive, ancient wings seeming to span the horizon. At a hundred metres Henry uttered something between a croak of fear and a war whoop, and threw himself down, gripping the rock tightly.

A vast red-bronze eye opened, then its pair, and both blinked.

Sam had it right. He saw this somehow.

The huge scaled belly passed low over their heads, claws throwing lines of sparks as they scraped across stone. A wave of shocked air buffeted them, the wind hot on Beth’s face. She drew in a lungful of dragonscent, this time a clean and sharp distillation of ozone and air and water.

The dragon banked and climbed, revealing the tracery of ribs and struts that strengthened his wings and his long tail. Vermilion spines were spaced down his neck, small copper-green horns above his brows.

You can’t see colour at night, Beth thought, but that wasn’t true. Not this time. For a long moment everything froze and she was able to see all the detail she desired. Each of his scales was distinct, from tiny violet discs near wing joints to yellow-bronze dinner plates along the broad, endless back. Muscles and sinews moved beneath the skin, everything gracefully articulated and perfectly proportioned. His slow, soaring turn threw the moon back in their faces, light reflecting from a million polished facets. Remember me, he hissed, laughing.

Goldenscale’s wings rose and fell with greater urgency, and he rapidly faded from sight.

Beth knew she would always look for him, for another glimpse of his wings and gilded hide, even if he was merely a far-off wisp over mountains, a phantom late at night. The dragon was back where he belonged — unbound.

Henry sat stunned, watching a blob become a speck become a pinprick become … just another star. Beth stood and brushed down her pants.

‘We can go back now.’

The End