That was when the Fain came into him. In an instant it learned of his intent, stayed his action, and turned him around.
Pick up the weapon, it said.
And the hunter that had once been the Inuk, Tootega, prepared to put a bullet through a dragon’s skull.
It was the easiest of targets, for the unsuspecting dragon had twisted its head, seduced by the glow falling out of the sky.
It amused the Fain that it should happen this way, with metal poisoning the dragon’s dull brain. Its death would be the worst of slow vibrations, a fitting punishment for its failure to lead him to the fire of Gawain.
Graark? it queried, awed by the sparkling tunnel of light. It gyred its leathery wings toward it, sensing that a better world was close.
Shoot, said the Fain. Let it be ended.
Tootega’s finger squeezed the trigger.
Lucy had been lucky. Polar bears, as she soon discovered, were wonderful swimmers. The mother bear had hardly put a paw out of place as she’d hurried away from the dying island and plunged into the ice cold waters of the Arctic. She had swum because her life depended on it. And the life of this precious child.
Just how precious, she was soon to discover. As they bobbed along with the outflowing tide, the girl suddenly sat up and tugged at her neck, clearly trying to make her change her course. She heard voices, human and polar bear, and altered the shape of her swimming stroke to bring herself in line with them.
The girl was suddenly hauled off her back. And there on the ice stood another, older girl, surrounded by a group of male bears.
“Zanna!” Lucy cried.
Zanna pulled her in close. “This is crazy. What are you doing here? And look at your hair. It’s blazing red.”
“Gwilanna brought me.”
“Gwilanna? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. And I’m really, really cold.”
“Warm her,” said Zanna to one of the males, as Lucy fell exhausted to the ice. The bear lay down and gathered her in, aided by the female who by now had dragged herself out of the water.
Suddenly, a bear barked, “Creature! It come.”
And all of them turned to see Grockle’s attack. “He kill Ingavar,” said one, running farther up the ice.
Zanna shook her head. “That can’t be Ingavar.” The bears, five in all, exchanged angry glances. “Ingavar would not destroy the island,” Zanna told them. “Bad spirits are working here.”
“You sibyl. Make magic,” the largest bear said. “Or we attack creature.”
Zanna crouched beside Lucy and gripped her hand. “Gwilanna must have brought you here to raise Gawain, Luce. How is the star involved in it?” “I don’t know,” said Lucy, “but —” “Inuk,” said a bear. “Inuk with creature.” Zanna raised her binoculars. Tootega, with a gun. Grockle distressed. The situation didn’t look good. “What, Luce? Hurry.”
“I saw a drawing in the cave of a tunnel in the sky and people going up it and a dragon at the top. And I found this.” She handed Zanna the isoscele.
“Gawain,” Zanna gasped. And in a microsecond she’d connected with Grockle and knew exactly what he must do. “Fly,” she called out to him. “Fly to the light.” And gripping Lucy tight, she called on the spirit of Gwendolen to aid him.
A gunshot ripped through the air.
But the dragon, Grockle, had already moved. The moment he entered the circle of light, he was gone, transported to the world of the Fain.
“We did it,” said Zanna. “We saved him, Luce.”
“But where’s he gone?” she said. “And — hhh! Look!” She pointed urgently across the ice. Another figure had appeared beside Tootega.
It was David Rain.
“You know, I preferred you as an evil monk. Would have made killing you a whole lot easier.”
The Fain swung around, hardly able to believe what was happening. The hybrid gone, and now this irritating human present. “You. How?”
“Told you, I’ve got connections,” said David. In his right hand he held the Inuit talisman. “A few hours gathering flowers around the abbey and Gretel was able to restore some of Arthur’s vital memory. He taught me how to use the shaman bear’s talisman to physically travel through space and time, instead of just dreaming it, like I’d done before.” He opened his hand and let Groyne fly free. “Go to Lucy. Take her home.”
“Your creations will all die with you,” said the Fain and thought about using the rifle again, but grunted scornfully and threw it aside. The gun slithered across the ice and dropped into the sea. David’s attention was briefly caught by movement in the water farther behind. Zanna was arriving on the back of a bear. He had to make this fast.
“You’ve failed,” he said. “My ‘connections’ will put Gawain back together and send him through the portal, along with the one you call the hybrid. Irks you, doesn’t it? To see a healthy dragon in the dark matter plane? A dragon untainted by the virus you’ve been spreading to wipe them out.”
The fingers of Tootega rolled into a fist. He knelt down and picked up a loose scrap of ice. “How did you find this connection?”
“Commingling’s a two-way process,” said David. “It’s amazing what you learn from the young of your species, who want nothing more than to praise Godith.”
“Die,” said Tootega, and threw the ice. In midair it changed to a pointed spear, piercing the center of David’s chest.
David cried out and dropped to his knees, his left hand clasping that portion of the ice still sitting proud above his chest.
“It will be slow,” said Tootega, throwing another. Its point sank into David’s heart. “The ice will stop your human blood and freeze you to death from the inside out.”
“No,” said David, reeling slightly.
“I am never wrong,” the Fain said back.
“The ice will transform me,” David breathed. “You’re the one who’s going to die.”
“Nothing on this world can touch me, human.”
“I’m not thinking of this world,” said David. His head fell low. In his mind’s eye, he turned for what he knew could be the last time to his beloved writing dragon. “Are you sure?” he asked.
On his pad Gadzooks wrote down the word:
Icefire
So be it.
“You’ve been seeking the fire of Gawain,” said David.
“Where is it? Speak and I will kill you quicker.”
“You’re standing on it. The ice is his fire tear. And that’s what’s seeping into my blood.”
Puzzled, Tootega looked about him. The ice rocked, the ocean rippled. A strange dark wind began to blow. For the first time in its life, the Fain felt cold.
“I was sworn to secrecy,” David said, giving out a little breath of discomfort. “If I speak of the fire, in the presence of the tooth, the spirit of Ragnar will be at my shoulder.” He stared into the absent, hooded eyes. “Say hello to Ingavar. I think you’ve already met.”
As Tootega turned, a spirit paw punched through the center of his chest, and tore out the Fain, striking it dead. The body that had once been the hunter, Tootega, fell to the ice in a lifeless heap. The spirit of Ingavar raised its paw again and drew three short lines in the dead man’s head. A hole opened in the ice beneath the corpse, and Tootega joined his dogs in spirit.
“David! David!” Then it was Zanna, scrambling headlong across the ice. She dropped to her knees to cradle his head.
“Hi,” he said, having difficulty swallowing. “Guess this means we’re back on again?”
“Why?” she said quietly, swaying over him. “Why did you have to do it?”
He lifted a hand and played with her hair, amused by the number of Inuit charms. “Got your feather. It’s under my pillow.”
“Don’t do this,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He swallowed again and looked up into her face. “Your eyes. They’re so beautiful. Please don’t cry.”
“David, don’t. Stay with me,” she begged.
The ice rocked. Three bears, maybe four, had climbed onto the floe.
David ran his fingertips over his lips and pressed them onto her cold, white cheek. “Know what day it is?”
She sniffed and shook her head.
“Valentine’s. Don’t s’pose you sent me a card?”
She shook her head again. “Missed the mail.”
“No problem. Put out your hand.”
She leveled it for him. And gathering his own hands together in a circle, he placed an invisible gift in her palm.
“What is it?” she said, trying hard not to cry.
“A Valentine dragon — anonymous, of course.”
She laughed and pulled her hair away from her mouth. “What’s its name?”
He blinked once and touched her face again. “It’ll come to you,” he said.
Then his eyes closed slowly and his head fell into the crook of her arm.
“No,” she wailed, and pulled him to her. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”
One of the bears gave a gentle snort.
There were four on the floe, lying down together. Farther out, on other floes, she could see more. At David’s feet sat the spirit of Ingavar.
“Not yet, I want to hold him,” she said.
And they waited, heads bowed, until she was ready to lay David down and move aside. Only then did she tell them, “Do what you must.”
The spirit of Ingavar set himself down at David’s shoulder. One by one, the four bears stood. North, south, east, and west. On a signal they rose together and pounded the ice in unison.
The piece holding David and Ingavar broke and committed them both to the lapping water.
“My love,” said Zanna, and looked into the sky.
In the heavens, the fire star went out.
EPILOGUE
64 WAYWARD CRESCENT — THREE DAYS LATER
Charming. That was the word that leaped to mind as soon as Bernard stepped out of the taxi. Despite the rain, the Crescent had a wonderful, welcoming feel. He knew his decision to come here was right.
He paid the driver and picked up his only pieces of luggage: a small bag containing his personal effects and a covered birdcage that Brother Peter’s budgerigar had once occupied, home now to a restless gray squirrel.
Number 42. After all he had witnessed on the island, this in some ways was the strangest sight of all. Here there be dragons, he thought. He smiled inwardly and walked down the path.
The door opened before he could touch the bell. And there she was. Mrs. Pennykettle. Arthur’s love. Green eyes and flowing red hair. Elizabeth.
“Hello, I am Brother Bernard Augustus,” he said, and shook her hand formally, knowing no better approach. She smiled warmly and invited him in. “And this must be Lucy?” he said. The girl was incredible, almost a carbon copy of her mother.
Lucy’s sparkling eyes went straight to the cage. “You’ve brought him,” she said, hunkering down and lifting the cover.
Chuk! went the squirrel, making everyone laugh. “Please, come through,” Liz said politely, directing Bernard toward the kitchen.
“Mom,” Lucy said, blocking his way, “shouldn’t you tell him about …?”
“Oh, yes,” Liz said, clapping her hands at her breast. “I must warn you about our cat.” “Do you like them?” asked Lucy. “Very much,” said Bernard. “What breed is it?” Lucy wiggled her nose. “Well …”
“Oh, he’s just a plain brown tabby …” said Liz, “… sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Cup of tea?” she said brightly, and bundled him down the hall.
On the kitchen table were three or four clay figures. Bernard put the birdcage beside a cat bowl, which seemed to be filled with slices of raw meat. He shook his head and pointed to the dragons. “Your sculptures, I ‘met’ one on the island.”
“Gretel, yes. She’s with her mistress, Zanna … David’s partner.” She and Lucy both looked away a moment.
Bernard bent forward with his hands on his knees. “And these beings, they move?”
“Not that you would notice,” Liz said.
Lucy stepped forward to introduce them. “This is Gadzooks. And this is G’reth. And this is Golly, the healing dragon. He’s mending Gruffen.”
“They have medical skills?” Bernard stepped back in amazement.
“Spiritual would be a better word,” Liz said. “Please, sit down.” She put a plate of cookies in front of the monk, which Bernard took to with great delight.
“I have seen so many strange things,” he said. “The events on the island have opened our eyes to aspects of our faith we never thought existed.”
Liz filled his china cup with tea. “Yes, I wanted to ask about that. Will the ‘events’ be spoken of beyond the island?”
Bernard shook his head, spilling crumbs down his habit. “As historian to the brethren, it’s my duty to record what happened, but I assure you the documents will be filed away safely and — oh, what was that?” He paused, hearing a kind of juvenile roar.
“Oh, that was just Bonnington …” said Liz.
“… the cat,” said Lucy.
“It has a most unusual purr,” said Bernard.
“It varies,” said Liz. “Anyway, you have some news for us, I hope?”
“Yes.” Bernard brought his hands together, beating them softly on the table. “Your neighbor, Henry Bacon, is still recovering. He was taken to the local hospital in Dunlogan, officially suffering from mild amnesia. I think you can expect him home in a few days.”
Pff, went Lucy, blowing back her fringe.
Liz gave her a “that’ll do” look. “And Arthur?” she said, with a tentative gulp. “On the telephone you said he was … unwell?”
Bernard lowered his head. “May I speak freely?”
Liz looked at Lucy and nodded.
“Arthur — the man I know as Brother Vincent — is changed. This being, this Fain, damaged his mind. Your dragon, Gretel, achieved some remarkable results, but Arthur’s journey to recovery will be long and may not have a conclusive ending. And there is something further you should know.”
“Go on,” Liz said, drawing a tissue from a box.
“He is almost blind.”
“Blind?” said Lucy, dropping her jaw. “So he won’t recognize Mom anymore? Or see me ever?”
Liz sank into a chair.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news,” said Bernard, resting a comforting hand on hers. “We will care for him, of course, but —”
“No,” said Lucy. “He’s got to come here.”
“Lu-cy?” Her mother choked back a sob.
“I want to meet him, Mom.”
“That’s not our decision.”
“We can help him,” Lucy said to Bernard. “If I ask him to, will he leave the island?”
Bernard sat back and dropped his hands on his stomach. “I …” He paused a moment, praying for guidance. “It was his intention to return to your mother.”
“There,” Lucy said triumphantly.
Her mother mouthed, “stop it.” “Lucy, this is complicated,” she said.
In the birdcage, Snigger did a little twirl.
“We should take him to the library gardens,” said Lucy. “Arthur should be there when we let Snigger go.”
There was a pause. Bernard stirred his tea. “What of David?” he inquired, switching the subject. “His departure from the island was nothing short of miraculous. Between them, he and Arthur have turned the laws of physics on their head. Did he reach the far north? What happened exactly?”
And now it was Lucy fighting back the tears.
“Is he safe?” asked Bernard, worried for her.
“David did what he had to do,” Liz said. “He’s still in the north. He may be there for some time.”
At that moment, there was a brr-up from the hall and Bonnington padded in.
“Ah,” said Bernard, grateful of some light relief. He turned to greet the cat, but jumped back
and almost fell off his chair. “That’s …” He waggled a finger at it.
Lucy looked down. “A tiger,” she said. “Oh, cool, he’s grown those saber teeth, Mom.”
Bernard gaped in astonishment at Liz.
“I did warn you Bonnington was different,” she said.
65 SCRUBBLEY LIBRARY GARDENS, FEBRUARY 29TH
Come on,” said Liz. “We’ve been through all this once before. And it’s even colder now than it was last time. Just open the cage and let him go.”
“That is one well-traveled squirrel,” said Zanna. “Why didn’t you just let him loose in your garden?”
“I did,” said Lucy. “But he wanted to come here — when you were ready. Mom, did you bring the food?”
“Yes-ss.” She sighed. “Here’s his commission for helping David with the nutbeast story.” She threw Lucy a plastic bag filled with peanuts.
Zanna blew into a tissue and laughed.
“You OK?” Liz asked her, stroking her shoulder.
Zanna closed her eyes and nodded.
“It’s fitting,” said a voice, “that the story should return to the place it began.”
Liz patted Zanna’s arm and walked the short distance along the path to where Arthur was sitting on a low stone wall, listening to the rustle of the leafless trees. He reached for Liz’s hand. She took his, knelt with it, and kissed his fingers.
“David is with us in spirit,” he said.
“He’s with us in a bit more than that,” said Zanna.
Liz threw her a questioning look.
“I’m having his baby,” she said.
“Oh my goodness,” said Liz, drawing in such a gulp of air that birds deserted the surrounding trees.
“His baby?” gasped Lucy, standing up at once. “You’re going to have —?” She stared in awe at Zanna’s tummy.
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