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The Purple One, however, did not get off.
Pleased as he was to see Marcia once again, Septimus was not prepared to let her fly Spit Fyre. They needed to get away fast and he doubted her ability to do it. He got to the point right away.
"Get off!" he yelled through the weight of the Darke Fog.
"Hurry up, Marcia," said Alther, who shared Septimus's opinion of Marcia's flying skills. "Get off and let the Pilot fly his dragon."
"I'm getting off. My cloak's caught. Oh these stupid spines . . ."
Septimus was hopping from one foot to another in impatience. He yanked the Reversed cloak off a small spine and Marcia clambered down. She surprised Septimus with a fierce hug, helped him up to his seat in front of the Pilot Spine and then took Jenna's place behind him in the Navigator seat. Jenna stifled her irritation - this was neither the time nor the place to argue about where she sat - and she and Nicko squeezed on behind Marcia.
Septimus took Spit Fyre up fast with Alther keeping pace alongside. Marcia tapped him on the shoulder.
"Manuscriptorium!" she yelled into the clear air created by the beating of Spit Fyre's wings.
Septimus wanted to get Spit Fyre out of danger. He most definitely did not want to fly to the Manuscriptorium. "Why?" he yelled.
"Merrin Meredith. Code!"
"Merrin Meredith's cold?"
"Not cold, Code! Paired Code. He's got it! He's at the Manuscriptorium!"
Now Septimus understood.
"He's not there!" he yelled. At that moment a massive shadow cruised overhead, accompanied by a foul downdraft of air. "He's up there!"
They all looked up. The wake of the Darke Dragon cleared the Fog just enough for them all to see the cruel talons, black and bloodied against the white underside of its belly. For the first time ever Septimus heard Marcia say a very rude word.
"I'm taking Spit Fyre out after that thing," said Marcia. "I'll get Merrin Meredith if it's the last thing I do."
Septimus thought it probably would be.
"Septimus, fly Spit Fyre back to the Wizard Tower at once. Land him on the dragon platform. You three can get off."
Septimus had no intention of getting off his dragon, but he knew better than to argue just then. He turned Spit Fyre around and headed back to the Wizard Tower. Spit Fyre arrowed through the join and took them into the bright, buzzing, Magykal air that surrounded the Wizard Tower. He landed perfectly on the dragon ledge.
"Wait there, I'll open the window," said Marcia, slipping down from the Navigator seat. She ushered Jenna and Nicko inside and stood waiting impatiently for Septimus to relinquish his place in the Pilot Dip.
"Hurry up, Septimus. Let me get on."
Septimus did not move.
"Septimus, get off. I am ordering you!"
"And I am refusing," said Septimus. "I'll get him."
"No, Septimus. Get off at once."
The stalemate might have lasted a while had not the orange warning lights zipping up and down the outside of the SafeShield suddenly stopped flashing.
Marcia gasped. "The SafeShield's failing! Septimus get off! Now!"
The blue and purple skin of the SafeShield began to take on a dull, reddish hue. A movement above caught Septimus's eye - tendrils of Darke Fog were beginning to drift down through the join. Suddenly a great curved black claw reached down through the gap.
Septimus knew what he had to do.
"Up, Spit Fyre," he said. "Up!"
Before Marcia could do anything to stop him, Pilot and dragon flew up through the dim glow of the failing Magyk to meet dragon and pilot.
Chapter 46 Synchronicity
Septimus and Spit Fyre burst through the top of the SafeShield and Spit Fyre's nose spine slammed into the Darke dragon's soft white underbelly with a jarring thud. Spit Fyre was sent reeling backward, but the Darke dragon seemed no more upset than if it had been stung by a wasp.
Spit Fyre recovered fast and snorted with excitement. He was at the age when, in ancient times when the world was full of dragons, he would have been looking for his first fight. In those days the dragon community would not have regarded him as an adult until he had fought another dragon - and won. And so, deep down in his dragon brain, Spit Fyre wanted a fight.
So did the Darke dragon's pilot. Merrin leaned out between the bristling spines, his eyes wild with excitement. Using a popular Castle insult for Apprentices, he yelled, "I'll get you, caterpillar boy!"
"No chance, rat face!"
Merrin pointed his left thumb at Septimus like a pistol. "You're dead. And your toy dragon. Yeah!"
In answer Septimus and Spit Fyre shot up past the Darke dragon before it had time to register what was happening. They whizzed by so close that Septimus could see Merrin's zits blazing out of his pale face and the look of hatred in his eyes - which shocked him more than the close-up view of the Darke dragon. As Spit Fyre shot past, Septimus made a very rude sign at Merrin. He left behind a stream of obscenities hemorrhaging into the Darke Fog.
Septimus and Spit Fyre stopped at the very edge of the Fog and looked back. Far below them, at the bottom of the clear tunnel of air that their wake had created, they saw the huge bulk of the Darke dragon. Behind it they could see the fading blue and purple Magykal glow of the Wizard Tower changing slowly to a dull red.
As they hovered above the Darke Domaine, suspended between the stars above and the blanket of silence below, a stillness spread through Septimus and his dragon and together they entered a state that is much sought after by dragon Imprintors but rarely achieved. It is known in dragon manuals (see Draxx, page 1141) as Synchronicity. Dragon and Imprintor became One, thinking and acting in perfect harmony. They hovered for a moment on the edge of the Darke Domaine and looked down at the Darke dragon far below at the end of the trail They had left in the Fog. They knew they must use the line of sight while they had it.
Suddenly They tipped forward and went into a nosepe. Septimus slammed into the broad, flat spine in front of him and wedged there, exhilarated as the air rushed past. They hurtled down like a bullet falling to earth and saw Merrin looking up, yelling and kicking at his dragon. In a beautifully controlled movement, the Synchronized pair decelerated, swooped to the left and headed for the rear set of the Darke dragon's wings. Their nose spine ripped through them. In a shower of splintering wing bones and folds of foul flapping skin they shot out the other side, wheeled around and stopped to view their handiwork.
The Darke dragon tumbled out of control. Its pilot's terrified screams were absorbed by the Fog as it catapulted down toward the Wizard Tower. With a dull boom that traveled through the Fog like distant thunder, the Darke dragon slammed against the failing SafeShield, sending sparks of Magyk into the air and setting off a chain of red distress lights that rippled down to the ground like a lightning strike. Tail flailing, its four undamaged wings beating frantically, the Darke dragon bounced off the SafeShield and fell toward the rooftops of the houses that looked out over the Wizard Tower courtyard. The Synchronized ones watched triumphantly - They hadn't dreamed it would be this easy to get rid of the Darke dragon.
It wasn't. Four wings are enough to fly a dragon - even one as cumbersome as the great beast that Merrin had Engendered. In a hail of smashed chimney pots and roof tiles, his dragon righted itself, perched for a moment on a roof, and, as the rafters caved in under its weight, it rose up into the air, and its six eyes locked onto Spit Fyre. The next moment the Darke dragon was heading straight for Them, mouth wide open, revealing three rows of long, tightly knit teeth like needles.
They waited, daring the dragon to come dangerously near. And when it was so close They could see the tiny black pupils in all six red eyes (but neither of the pilot's - he had his eyes tightly closed) They shot around behind the monster's tail into the ten-degree blind spot, arrowed down underneath the white belly, and then zoomed up in front of the boxy head - which was still staring upward, wondering where They had gone. And then They swiped it hard on the nose with the barb of Their tail. Wap. Dragons' noses are a sensitive spot and a roar of pain followed Them as They shot out of reach once more.
"I'll get you for that!" They heard Merrin shouting as They zoomed around in a tight circle, way out of reach.
"You wish!" They yelled.
And so They taunted the Darke dragon and its pilot: ping down, flying circles around it, swooping out of sight only to reappear in exactly the opposite direction from where the dragon was looking. They landed sideswipes with Their tail; They stabbed the underbelly with Their nose spine; They even caught the tops of another two wings in a short burst of Fyre that They managed to summon from an empty fire stomach. The Darke dragon responded to every move - but about five seconds too late. Often it was countering the last attack while the next one was underway, and before long the monster was bellowing with fury and frustration and its pilot was whimpering in terror.
