The Wrath of the Lizard Lord by Jon Mayhew

them as the cliff collapsed.

Chapter Ten
    Mary Anning
    The roar of the crumbling cliff filled Dakkar’s ears. Dust clouded around them and huge boulders crashed together, cracking and splintering in the chaos. Without hesitating, Dakkar threw himself towards the girl, grabbing her round the waist. They tumbled on to the shingle as earth piled forward, threatening to engulf them. Still holding on to the girl, Dakkar rolled over and over again away down the beach. Soil grimed his eyes and made his mouth feel dry and gritty.
    The thundering subsided and, for a second, Dakkar and the girl lay still on the shingle. A mountain of rock and earth lay inches from them. An occasional stone or pebble bounced down, clicking and cracking as it did. The blood pounded in Dakkar’s head and he panted for breath. Then, suddenly, the girl was struggling, kicking and slapping at him.
    ‘Let go of me, you scoundrel!’ she yelled, scrambling to her feet. She was a local girl; her accent told Dakkar that much. She glared at Dakkar. Her bonnet was pushed back from her head and dirt smeared her clothes and face. ‘What do you mean by leapin’ on a defenceless young lady like that? I’ve a mind to call the constable!’
    ‘I was saving you from the rockfall!’ Dakkar said, staring at her as if she were mad. ‘You would have been crushed if I hadn’t intervened.’
    ‘Crushed?’ The girl’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve been diggin’ in these cliffs all my life. My old dad used to do the same, God rest his soul. I was about to get out of the way but you crept up on me!’
    ‘Crept up?’ Dakkar muttered. He gritted his teeth and gave a short bow. ‘Well, ma’am, forgive me. It wasn’t my intention to alarm you. I thought I was saving your life. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’
    He turned and began to walk away, his feet scrunching on the pebbles.
    ‘Savin’ my life? The day Mary Anning needs her life savin’,’ the girl called after him, ‘will be the day she dies!’
    ‘Two things! One: that doesn’t make sense,’ Dakkar said, stopping and turning round. ‘And two: did you just say your name is Mary Anning?’
    ‘Who wants to know?’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Dakkar.
    ‘My name is Dakkar. Prince Dakkar of Bundelkhand, to be precise,’ he said, giving another short bow. ‘I was wondering if you’ve ever seen anything like this before?’ Dakkar pulled the claw from his pocket and held it in front of Mary.
    Mary’s face fell. ‘I ’aven’t seen nothin’ like that before,’ she snapped, turning and hurrying away. ‘I don’t care who you are. I don’t know anythin’ about it!’
    Dakkar stood for a second, watching her. He hadn’t expected a reaction like that. Then he started after her.
    ‘I think you do, miss,’ he called, and stamped through the shingle. ‘If you’d just stop and talk to me.’
    ‘Go away!’ she shouted, and began to run surprisingly fast considering her long skirt.
    Dakkar hurried as she dashed round a rocky outcrop. He leapt over a boulder and glanced around. She’d vanished!
    A footstep behind him warned Dakkar, but he was too slow. He spun round to see her holding up a smooth rock with both hands.
    ‘I told you to leave me alone!’ she yelled, bringing the stone down on his head.
    Pain lanced through Dakkar’s skull as he staggered back, tripping over. Overbalancing, he landed painfully and lay dazed and blinking. He glanced up to see the blurred image of Mary Anning’s boots disappearing across the pebbles.
    Dakkar lay still, his head thumping. He groaned, putting a hand to his scalp. A goose egg of a lump grew there. Dakkar groaned again and clambered to his feet. Stumbling over the rocks, he headed after the now distant figure. His head whirled and the horizon seemed to see-saw in front of him.
    Mary hurried along the shore, still some distance from Dakkar. His head began to clear although the lump pulsed with pain. The shore grew narrow here and the cliffs grew sheer.