Blood and Fire (Book 3)

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘Your hand next,’ said Hotstepper.

  ‘Wait!’ urged Nibbler. ‘Wait! Can’t we do anything else?’

  ‘My sorrow, little brother, but we are in the middle of nowhere and we have far to go. Without healers present, battlefield surgery is all I can offer.’

  ‘Do it,’ moaned Charlie.

  ‘What? Are you sure, Charlie?’ stammered Nibbler.

  Tears streaked down her face and she fought to hold back the sobs and the shivers of pain long enough to speak. ‘Wh-what choice do we have?’ she gasped. She offered up her hand. ‘Ju-just do it be-before I change my mind.’

  Hotstepper ground the tip of his glowing talon into Charlie’s hand.

  ‘Gaaaaaaaaargh!’ gurgled Charlie, instantly regretting her bravado and lack of choices. The agony was relentless and even though the job was done it felt worse not better. Cramp clenched her muscles and her spine burned like it was on fire.

  ‘Stand strong, little one,’ murmured Hotstepper, ‘for we are not done.’

  Raising his other paw, he parted the flesh on his forearm. Blood, which glittered oddly, welled to the surface. He dripped this liquid gift over Charlie’s leg and, ignoring her screams and the look of anguish on Nibbler’s face, daubed some more over her blistered hand. Finally he tilted her head back to pour even more between her quivering lips. Her screams grew muffled and her eyes rolled back in her head. With a final shudder, she fell still and silent.

  ‘What have you done?’ cried Nibbler, aghast.

  ‘What had to be done.’

  Nibbler rushed over to cradle Charlie’s head. ‘Is … is she OK?’

  ‘No,’ snorted Hotstepper. ‘She is missing a finger and has lost more blood than is wise. But at least we know she will survive and soon, very soon, she will grow strong once more. Now, let me attend to our other fallen friend.’

  37

  Torn Moon

  ‘Wake up, Charlie,’ said a voice. She felt a gentle pat on her cheeks. ‘Wake up.’

  She opened her eyes to find Nibbler crouching over her. A little bit puzzled as to where she was and how she’d got there, she sat up. As she put her hand to her brow a scattering of pine needles dropped to her lap. She stared at those for a moment, then studied her surroundings in confusion.

  Everything came rushing back when she saw the ancient moss-covered trees. With a little ‘Oh’ of shock, she lifted her damaged hand and turned it this way and that. She was still missing a finger and her hand looked awkward but it was healed. There was no trace of blood, no scabs, only a fresh pink crinkling of scar tissue down the edge of her hand. Amazed, she lifted the flap of her trouser leg to examine the arrow wound. That too had healed, leaving another web of fresh scar tissue.

  ‘Huh,’ she grunted in wonder.

  The image of Stix driving his Stowyrm into Marsila flashed before her eyes. So did the memory of Stones’s arrow searing through her finger. She felt the stirring of rage but she pushed it down and tucked it away. With tasks to attend to she could not afford to get sidetracked by the past. Her friends and Sylvaris were relying on her. She would allow herself a chance to mull over her losses only when they were safe.

  She started to say something to Nibbler but stopped. She was tired, there was no doubting that, and after all she had been through it didn’t come as a great surprise. Her head still felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool but it had been that way ever since Marsila had woken her in the Jade Tower. What did surprise her was that she was no longer in pain. She did not ache, her leg didn’t twitch and her hand didn’t clench or spasm in agony. Remarkably, and for all that she had endured, she felt relatively OK.

  ‘Charlie?’ asked Nibbler. ‘Is everything …?’

  ‘OK,’ finished Charlie. ‘Yes, and … I’m not sure.’ She tried to focus on just how she felt. ‘Something’s changed. I feel tired … but stronger. Does any of that make sense?’

  Nibbler gave a start and a guilty look over his shoulder. ‘Perhaps. I think we need to talk to Hotstepper about that.’

  Charlie leaned to the side so she could look past her friend. Hotstepper was standing over E’Jaaz. The Keeper looked diminutive next to the muscular bulk of the adult dragon.

  ‘Why’s E’Jaaz tied to a pole?’ asked Charlie.

  Not only had the Keeper had his leg bound and splinted but his whole body had been wrapped round a large branch that had been stripped free of bark. He could almost have been mistaken for a martyred saint tied to a stake. A saint who had a barbaric-looking arrow jutting from his thigh.

  ‘And why isn’t he talking?’ added Charlie as an afterthought.

  ‘He is tied that way so I can better carry him in his weakened state,’ said Hotstepper. ‘His leg is indeed broken and I have not the skill to remove the arrow without risk of cutting an artery. So although I have stabilized him, we will keep him this way until we can get him the attention he requires. And now we have treated you and your friend we must hasten to tell the others that the way to Bellania has once more been opened.’

  Thudding over to Charlie, he lifted her with ease and plopped her between his shoulder blades.

  ‘Think you can hold on?’ he asked.

  Still bemused and not truly awake, Charlie looked at the armoured ridges and large horny scales that lay along his spine. She gripped some of them experimentally and wriggled her bum until she found a more comfortable perch. ‘Er, yes. I think I can hold on. Why, what did you have in mind?’

  Hotstepper twisted his neck round so he could stare at her with his amazing eyes. An expression of amusement fluttered across his face. ‘I forgot how entertaining it is to be around young Keepers, particularly young Keepers drunk on Winged Ones’ blood. Ha! What do you think I had in mind, little Keeper, other than flight?’

  With a hop and a bound, he reached E’Jaaz’s side. He grasped each end of the branch between his forelegs, crouched low, then sprang upward. Bursting above the treeline, he opened his wings and with rapid flaps beat his way into the indigo sky.

  Charlie peered about with bleary eyes, still feeling dazed and sensing that something unusual was happening inside her body. Nibbler, wings spread wide, stared back at her while he flew by Hotstepper’s side.

  ‘Charlie,’ he called, ‘whatever you do, just hold on, OK? It’s – erm … a long fall.’

  Unable to stop herself, and ignoring the tiny voice of sanity screaming distantly inside her head, she leaned over so she could peer beneath Hotstepper’s broad wings. She could see E’Jaaz lying quite peacefully on his wooden pole. His hair waved in the wind and his eyes remained closed. Beneath him she could see the graceful rise and fall of the forest’s canopy. And even though she was flying relatively high, everything seemed quite all right until, with an abrupt suddenness, the forest ended and became a nothingness; just a long, empty fall into a bottomless sky. Then just as suddenly as the forest had ended, another fantasy landscape appeared beneath them. It was a forest too, but laden with different types of trees and hung on a stretch of land that was even lower in the sky than the first. Below this, Charlie caught sight of another floating landscape of sand dunes and boulders, then beyond that one of mountain ranges and another seemingly full of waves that spilled endlessly over the side in misty waterfalls. And as Charlie craned her neck back to look, above them she saw the jagged bottom of more islands floating overhead.

  A hundred thoughts surged through her brain. How could there be breathable air in space? And how could the sky be indigo and not black like real space? And where did all the water go when it fell from the watery island? And what replenished it? And why did everything seem drenched in sunshine when there was no sun?

  The more she thought, the more questions came to mind. Just as she was about to open her mouth to see if Hotstepper would help ease her curiosity, a wave of fatigue washed over her. Still feeling odd, both inside and out, she leaned forward, wrapped her arms round Hotstepper’s neck and fell into a deep sleep.

  ‘Islands!’ shouted Charlie, snap
ping her eyes open and leaping to her feet in one jerky motion.

  ‘Oh!’ she added when she saw that she was surrounded by a group of dragons each as big as or bigger than Hotstepper. Then, ‘Oops,’ when she realized that all of them had been startled by her abrupt change from a horizontal to vertical position. Feeling like a complete idiot, she tried to cover both her blushing cheeks with her hands. Her eyes drifted over the group of Winged Ones and she froze when she caught sight of the majestic vista.

  A mountain of gold reared above the heads of the dragons. Not a pile of money or stacked ingots but a real mountain made of gold. And where the mountain ended the indigo, star-clad sky started. But it was not an empty sky. It was filled with an endless array of those strange floating islands. The ones directly behind the golden mountain seemed huge, magnificent and completely impossible. The ones further back dwindled with perspective until those furthest away were lost amongst the stars. There were islands of ice, of sand, of jungle and of crashing waves. There were islands too that seemed to disobey the laws of imagination. Some glowed with odd strobing lights, some writhed with a strange motion and some seemed to flicker in and out of sight as though they were caught half in and half out of the fabric of this incredible realm.

  ‘Charlie Keeper?’

  Charlie jumped. Flicking her eyes back to firmer ground, she saw that Hotstepper had moved close. Nibbler stood beside him, staring at the other Winged Ones with an expression of dazed wonder.

  ‘Er, yes?’

  Hotstepper pulled his lips into a wide smile. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living.’

  ‘Thanks, I … Wait. I wasn’t snoring earlier, was I? When I was out cold?’

  Hotstepper didn’t reply but his smile grew even wider.

  ‘Oh no,’ whispered Charlie. Here she was in the heart of magic and fantasy, in a realm spun from myth and dreams, and not only had she been sleeping in front of her hosts but she had been snoring too. In front of dragons! She resisted the urge to slap her forehead and stood straighter in an effort to retain some scrap of dignity.

  Hotstepper chuckled. ‘No matter, Charlie. I think that much can be forgiven of the person who opened the Gateway to Bellania. Come, follow me. I must introduce you to our Elder.’

  Still feeling like a fool and very much aware that she was blushing worse than any beetroot, Charlie trailed after Hotstepper. He led her across the circle, in front of all the others, to stand in front of the largest of all the Winged Ones.

  ‘Torn Moon, I bring you Charlie of the Keepers. Charlie of the Keepers, you stand before she who leads us, Torn Moon.’

  Charlie stared up at the leader of the Winged Ones. Torn Moon’s imposing size and musculature was intimidating and, standing so close, Charlie was only too aware of how easy it would be for this creature to squish her into the ground. Torn Moon’s scales were predominantly charcoal black though bursts of bright green, red and orange showed in the hollow beneath her folded wings and across the arch of her chest. But it was her eyes that drew all the attention. It was like looking into liquid gold.

  Charlie felt her mouth go dry.

  Torn Moon brought her head close to Charlie’s. Daunted, the young girl had to fight not to take a step back. The Winged One’s lips peeled open to reveal row upon row of spear-like teeth.

  ‘You are the get of Elias and Mya of the Keepers, are you not?’

  ‘G-g-get?’ stammered Charlie.

  ‘Hush, child, I will not eat you.’

  A rumble of laughter came from the other Winged Ones.

  ‘Get,’ repeated Torn Moon. ‘Child of their loins, offspring, flesh of their flesh, daughter.’

  ‘Y-yes,’ said Charlie, still struggling to get a grip.

  ‘Then I bid you welcome. Doubly welcome for showing us the way back to Bellania.’

  ‘Ah … you’re welcome. My parents are trapped …’ began Charlie but found it difficult to continue. Just how did one go about asking dragons for help?

  Torn Moon tut-tutted. ‘While you slumbered my young son told me of all that has unfolded in our realm of Bellania. We know of Bane and the broken peace and the taking of Keepers and this “tapestry” that holds your sire and mother. Rest assured that we will rectify all the errors made in our absence. Preparations are being made and in short span we will return to our favoured land.’

  It took a while for Charlie to decipher Torn Moon’s archaic patterns of speech. ‘You knew all of this already?’

  ‘We surmised that it was the wretch Bane who had barred our return but details and news of events were hidden from us. It was our newest and most recently returned child who gifted us with knowledge of what has happened during the long years of our absence.’

  Charlie scrunched her forehead. Something wasn’t adding up. ‘Son? There were other Winged Ones in Bellania?’

  Another rumble of laughter came from the congregated dragons. Torn Moon lifted a paw to point at –

  ‘Nibbler? Nibbler is your son? He’s royalty?’

  The rumble grew to become a roar of hilarity.

  Torn Moon’s lips quivered. Rearing her head back, she too joined in the laughter. After a while she lifted a paw, calling for some measure of quiet.

  ‘No, Charlie of the Keepers, you misread the meaning of my words. I am Elder of the Winged Ones. Queen of all. All before you are my children. This young Hatchling who you call Nibbler is but one of my brood.’

  Charlie’s face, only just recovered from blushing, started anew. ‘You … all the Winged Ones came from you?’

  This time it took longer for Torn Moon to stop the laughter.

  ‘Charlie of the Keepers, you are truly refreshing. As much as I would like to linger and listen to your unusual ability to misinterpret words I have a battle to prepare for.’

  A weathered and aged Winged One who had been studying Charlie throughout her conversation pushed his way through the crowd and leaned close to mutter something to Torn Moon. Once finished, the two paused to look at the young Keeper.

  Feeling nervous beneath their combined gaze, Charlie said, ‘What?’

  ‘Last Laugh says there is a hole in your soul,’ said Torn Moon. She leaned closer to stare at her Human visitor. ‘I think there is truth to his words. You carry your suffering like rusted chains round your ankles.’

  ‘Chains?’ Charlie looked down at her ankles but saw nothing. Feeling confused, she added, ‘Hole?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Winged One called Last Laugh. ‘You are young but your soul is old. And as strong as it is, it is incomplete.’ He looked to Torn Moon. ‘Send her to the Hunger.’

  ‘Hunger?’ said Charlie, now twice as confused but also alarmed at what these magnificent creatures thought might be missing from her soul. ‘Incomplete?’

  ‘I agree,’ said Torn Moon. ‘Hotstepper, take our visitor to speak with the Hunger. Charlie of the Keepers, the Hunger will have wisdom for your ears. We will talk when you return.’

  Realizing that she had been dismissed, but feeling no less confused, she allowed Hotstepper to lead her and Nibbler away from the gathering of Winged Ones.

  38

  The Winged Realm

  ‘Can we stop a minute?’ asked Nibbler.

  ‘What troubles you, little brother?’ enquired Hotstepper.

  ‘Where are you taking Charlie?’

  Charlie, also wanting to know the answer, looked to Hotstepper.

  ‘To see the Hunger.’

  ‘Yes, we got that bit …’ said Nibbler, ‘but what is “the Hunger”?’

  Hotstepper grinned. ‘Not a what but a who. The Hunger is the eldest of the eldest, the oldest and wisest of us all. It would seem that Torn Moon and Last Laugh think that Charlie of the Keepers could benefit from his –’ Hotstepper made a show of coughing – ‘words of wisdom.’

  ‘Why did you cough like that?’ asked Charlie. She was alarmed enough by the thought that the Winged Ones believed there was something lacking in her (and the idea that her soul might have a ‘hole’ in i
t was not the sort of thing she ever wanted to hear). For Hotstepper to cough, no matter how wryly, did not bode well for her current state of mind.

  Sensing her alarm, Hotstepper smiled. ‘I do not exaggerate when I say that the Hunger is the oldest of us all. And although his mind is sharp he has a fondness for playing with the definition of “wisdom”.’

  Nibbler looked back towards the gathering of Winged Ones. ‘So this is going to be one of those wise master teaches student valuable life lesson moments, right?’

  Hotstepper looked from Nibbler to Charlie and back again with a bemused look. ‘Little brother, you have been away from the fold for too long. Either that or Charlie of the Keepers has spoiled you with her ways, for I know of no other Winged One that talks like you.’

  ‘But is it?’ insisted Nibbler. ‘It’s just a talk, right? I mean, Charlie’s not going to be under any pressure, is she?’

  ‘She will be fine, little brother.’

  Nibbler looked back again at the gathering of dragons, longing in his eyes. ‘Charlie … if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay here a bit. I want to get to know … well, y’know.’

  It dawned on Charlie that although she thought of Nibbler as family he was finally in the midst of his own kind. And while an irrational part of her feared to lose him, and as much as she didn’t want to travel through this strange realm without a friendly face, she hurriedly pushed her selfish thoughts down and summoned a weak smile. She would, for now, go on alone.

  ‘There’s no way I could ever say no to you, Nibbler.’

  The smile on his face caused her heart to lurch.

  ‘You’re the best, Charlie!’