Free The Wrath of the Lizard Lord by Jon Mayhew Page A

surprisingly little noise.
    ‘Can you move your elbow just a little?’ Dakkar whispered to Mary. ‘It’s digging right into my back.’
    ‘No, I can’t,’ Mary hissed back, wriggling to illustrate how cramped she was.
    ‘Where are they taking us?’ Dakkar said, trying to arch his back to escape Mary’s sharp elbow.
    ‘To their camp, I reckon,’ Mary said. ‘I ’aven’t a clue where we are now, though.’
    The jungle grew thicker and Dakkar lost all track of time. A deep growl in the depths of the forest made the party freeze. The biggest giant peered into the press of trees and muttered something, readying his club.
    Silence fell over them. Dakkar held his breath, trying to see what the giant could see, but darkness and shadows swirled between the tree trunks.
    Then Mary gave a scream as a huge head thrust out from the gloom, snapping its teeth, its yellow eyes shining. Dakkar’s heart pounded. Trapped in the net, they were helpless. What if the giants just dropped them and ran? The chief giant skipped back, raising his club and then pounding it down. The night echoed with a sickening crack and the lizard crunched to the ground, dead.
    They hurried on, not pausing to inspect the fallen monster. Dakkar looked back and saw that something squatted, already tearing at the carcass of the animal. This is a deadly land , he thought. Everything is trying to eat everything else!
    As they journeyed on, Dakkar scanned the shadows of the jungle closely. He shivered, thinking that something could jump out at any second. They stopped several times on hearing growls or something thrashing about in the undergrowth nearby.
    Finally, the trees and bushes thinned and Dakkar smelt woodsmoke. They entered a large clearing, dotted with huge huts made of mud and leaves. Fires burned between the huts and Dakkar could see more giants – women and children – tending to the fires. They looked like slighter and smaller versions of the men who had captured them. Their brows were low and heavy, their noses large. Wiry hair sprang from their huge heads and hung about their fur-covered shoulders.
    A crowd gathered around Mary and Dakkar. A confusion of curious faces, poking fingers and grunts made Dakkar flinch.
    The men carrying the net dumped it on the ground, spilling Dakkar and Mary out. For a moment, Dakkar thought they would be trampled by the onlookers. He curled into a ball, covering his head.
    The giants dragged Dakkar to his feet and, with Mary at his side, he found himself propelled across the clearing to a huge throne by a roaring fire. The chief giant sat on the massive chair, glaring at them.
    ‘I Gog, Chief of Gulina People,’ he said, raising his chin. He pointed at Dakkar. ‘Who?’
    Dakkar gave a short bow. ‘My name is Prince Dakkar of Bundelkhand,’ he said. ‘This is Mary Anning of Lyme Regis. We mean you no harm.’
    ‘I can speak for myself, you know,’ Mary hissed.
    ‘You stone girl,’ Gog said, pointing at Mary. ‘We watch . . . many days . . . you collect stones. Why?’
    ‘I sell them,’ Mary said. ‘Up there.’ She pointed to the clouds that swirled and crackled above their heads.
    ‘Sell?’ Gog looked confused. ‘Sky?’
    ‘Our people,’ Dakkar said. ‘They live up there.’
    ‘ Praya vasadi agaza ! ’ Gog announced in a loud voice to the crowd that surrounded them. Laughter rippled across the clearing but Gog’s smile dropped. ‘You lie,’ he said, banging his fist on the arm of the chair. His eyes darkened and Dakkar thought he saw pain in them. ‘All small ones lie. Lagu gara ! ’
    At the last words, three giants sprang up and grabbed Dakkar and Mary. Dakkar struggled but the iron grip on his arms did not break. The guards dragged them to a hut and threw them inside. Dakkar ran at the door but it slammed shut in his face, sending him sprawling back on the dirt floor.
    ‘Well, this ain’t so good,’ Mary muttered, putting her hands on her hips.
    Dakkar scanned the room. The hut