The Emerald Quest by Gill Vickery Page B

right in front of the rock Tia was hiding behind. She couldn’t resist letting fly with her sling again. This time she hit him on the nose. He roared and spun round.
    Tia jumped up from behind the rock, waving her sling. ‘Got you!’ she yelled.
    With another roar, Torkil launched himself at her. She dropped behind the rock and wriggled away down a tunnel as fast as she could. He was too big to squeeze down the narrow passageway.
    She wriggled on until she came to a small cavern lit by sunlight streaming from openings in the roof.
    The cavern was Tia’s secret den. She wound up her sling and put it with her bag of pebbles on a rock shelf. Then she lit her fire, sat on a pile of cushions and picked up her runes book.
    She meant to practise writing but she couldn’t concentrate.
    That morning she’d asked Freya, ‘How long have you been my DragonMother?’ and Freya had told her, ‘Eight years.’
    Eight years! She could hardly remember anything from her human past. She did remember her father’s voice calling, ‘I’ll find you, Tia… and bring you back.’ But there had been no sign of him.
    Perhaps he thinks I died when Andgrim dropped me,
she thought sadly.
    Tia had forgotten almost everything about her parents – even their names. The only reminder she had was a locket on a chain that she’d been wearingon the day she was kidnapped. Inside were portraits of her mother and father. They looked so kind.
    Most of the dragons were good to her. She was respectful to them and never complained about how cold and hard it was living in the mountains. She worked at her lessons and obeyed the dragons’ orders.
    But she was a hostage: until the witches returned the DragonQueen’s necklace with its jewels of power, the dragons wouldn’t return Tia to her parents. And Andgrim insisted that she was dangerous. Freya had told her, ‘Andgrim’s brother, Thor, disappeared trying to recover the necklace from the High Witches. Because some of your family are witches, Andgrim thinks you are dangerous too.’
    But Thor had also been Freya’s husband, and Freya didn’t believe Tia was dangerous. She sighed again and went back to writing runes. The book was almost full; she’d need a new one soon.
    She jumped up. The Traders were due to arrive today and Freya would buy her a new book from them. She always made sure the Traders provided everything Tia could want: food and clothes, blankets and cushions, books and pens – even a special iron claw to fit over her finger so that she could write runes in the mud of the teaching cave floor just likethe dragonets. The Traders had also taught her how to ride horses, defend herself, light fires, use a sling shot, and cook what she could catch and gather.
    She had once asked them to help her escape from Drakelow but they said they couldn’t; they needed to be friends with everyone – dragons, ordinary humans and the High Witches – so that they could trade freely in the whole island of Tulay.
    Tia ran to Freya’s cave, keeping a look out for Torkil on the way.
I hope Torkil and his friends don’t take it out on Finn
, she thought. Poor Finn was tormented by the other dragonets because he was her foster brother. Worse than that, he was small for his age and a strange colour. He wasn’t green or blue or red as the other dragons were; he was a sort of coppery shade, and he sometimes changed colour, which none of the other dragons did: that really made the dragonets laugh and the more they laughed, the more the colours swirled over Finn’s hide.
    Tia reached her foster mother’s cavern. Although it was huge inside, Freya kept it warm and cosy; a fire burned in a hearth at the centre of the cave and blue smoke curled straight up and out through a vent in the roof. The green dragon was dozing against the far wall when Tia burst in.

    Freya opened her glittering golden eyes.