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“Aaaargh!” growled Nettlebrand, salivating as he followed them with his red eyes. “So here are two of you.”
His voice shook the stone columns. It was deep and hollow, as if it were booming down an iron pipe. “And with your brownies on board, too. Not bad! Brownies always make a nice pudding!”
“Pudding?” Sorrel leaned so far down from Firedrake’s back that Nettlebrand’s hot breath singed her whiskers. “You’re the one on the menu today, you great golden meatball!”
Nettlebrand didn’t so much as look at her. He cast Firedrake and Maia a brief glance, licked his lips, and reared up menacingly.
“Where are the others?” he snarled, looking around impatiently. His whole body was quivering with greed as his claws scraped fitfully over the stony ground. “Come out!” he bellowed, horns thrusting at the empty air. “Come on out! I want to hunt you all together. I want to see you scatter like a flock of frightened ducks when I bring one of you down.”
Bellowing, he raised one claw and smashed a stalactite as if it were made of glass. Splinters of stone shot around the cavern. But the two dragons, flying as steadily as ever, kept on circling above his head.
“There are no others!” called Firedrake, diving so low that his wings almost brushed Nettlebrand’s nose.
Ben and Sorrel both felt their hearts miss a beat as they came so close to the monster. Clutching their straps, they cowered down behind Firedrake’s spines.
“We’re the only dragons here,” cried Maia, skimming over Nettlebrand’s back, “but we will overcome you, wait and see. He and I will defeat you with our dragon riders.”
Furiously Nettlebrand whipped around.
“Dragon riders — huh!” He twisted his muzzle, taunting them. “Trying to scare me with those old stories, are you? Where — are — the — others?”
Ben didn’t notice Twigleg slipping out of his strap. Inconspicuous as a tiny mouse, the homunculus clambered up the boy’s jacket and stood on his shoulder.
“Twigleg!” cried Ben, horrified.
But the homunculus wasn’t looking at him. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted in a shrill voice, “Hey, yoohoo, look who’s here, master!”
Nettlebrand’s head shot up in surprise.
“Here I am, master!” shouted Twigleg. “On the dragon rider’s shoulder. There aren’t any other dragons. Get it? I lied to the dwarf! I lied to you, too! You’re going to melt, and I’m going to stand by and watch!”
“Twigleg!” cried Ben. “Get down.”
He tried to pluck the homunculus off his shoulder, but Twigleg clung to his hair, shaking his tiny fist.
“This is my revenge!” he screeched. “This is my revenge, master!”
Nettlebrand’s mouth creased into an ugly grin. “Well, look at that!” he growled. “Our spidery friend riding the silver dragon. My old armor-cleaner. Look at the fool up there, Gravelbeard, and let what I’m about to do to him be a lesson to you.”
“Gravelbeard?” Twigleg yelled, almost toppling off Ben’s shoulder. “Haven’t you noticed? Gravelbeard isn’t with you anymore. He’s abandoned you, just like me. You don’t have an armor-cleaner anymore, and pretty soon you won’t be needing one, either.”
“Quiet, Twigleg!” Firedrake called back to him.
Nettlebrand suddenly reared up on his hind legs, snarling. His claw struck out with terrible force at the circling dragon. Firedrake only just avoided it. But Twigleg uttered a shrill scream, tried desperately to find something to hang on to — and fell headfirst into the depths below.
“Twigleg!” shouted Ben, leaning forward. But his outstretched hand caught only empty air.
The homunculus came straight down on Nettlebrand’s armored brow, slid along the monster’s thick neck, and was caught, struggling, between two spines.
Nettlebrand lowered himself back on all four paws with a grunt. “Got you now, spider-legs!” he growled, snapping at the place where his treacherous servant was clinging on for dear life, his thin legs flailing in the air.
“Firedrake!” cried Ben. “Firedrake, we must help Twigleg!”
But both dragons were already swooping down on Nettlebrand, one from each side. They were just opening their mouths to breathe fire at him when Twigleg uttered a shrill cry.
“No!” he pleaded. “No, not dragon-fire! It’ll disenchant me! No, oh, please, no!”
The dragons braked in their flight.
