Deelind and The Icefire

by Lance Dempster

  Dog walked quickly behind Spike and the others. They headed south towards the main road into town. They crossed the stone bridge and when they got within a short distance of the hedge and it’s firing thorns, Spike put a hand in a pocket and pulled out a black bag. Taking red powder out of the bag, he threw it at the hedge. Through her fog-filled mind she watched the hedge fold back out of the way of the powder. Spike and his gang ran quickly through the gap, with Dog almost carrying Deelind through. She now knew how Blackthorn’s people could move through the hedge but had no clue what the powder was. With the IceFire rushing through her body, she wasn’t sure she cared. Think! Trying to shake the fog from her mind, it quickly became clear that the drug had the upper hand. She was experiencing random moments of lucidity and then flung back into the fog without concerns or interest in anything. Yet even in the drugged haze, a deep tiny part of her was aware and remembered everything around her.

  As they got through the hedge, Dog turned with the others to watch the hedge close. A black smoke rose from the edges of the leaves. So, this was what was causing the black cloud that hid everything behind the hedge from Brakenhill. The gang turned towards the town. The black smoke that hung over everything felt like night, a creepy, dark, damp night. In the distance she could see what looked like a firestorm raging over Buttercup.

  ‘Why didn’t you use your skull?’ said a gang member.

  ‘Shut up. You know it will only let us in, not Dog and this pathetic thing,’ said Spike pointing to Deelind.

  Hearing that, she saw that Dog was the only one who did not have a skull attached to his arm. They all wore black clothes and black leather jackets. The word ‘Thorns’ was written on the back of the jackets in blood-red handwriting. Lame. She knew what she wanted to do to the Thorns. Walking along the road, the gang chattered away about getting drunk, no more school and blowing up things with the deathburners. John, a quiet member of the gang, said, ‘How do the fireballs work?’

  ‘Deathburners,’ corrected Spike. ‘They are Master Blackthorn’s personal weapon. Only Master Blackthorn and Dad’s skulls can activate the fluid we put into the deathburners. A deathburner is made up of a fire magic from Master Blackthorn’s cane, the sap from the blackthorn trunk—’ Suddenly Spike stopped talking when his skull turned, and head-butted him.

  ‘That cane is where all his power comes from. No one can touch it and Blackthorn uses it to beat that irritating dragon bird thing,’ said Oscar, who hadn’t noticed what Spike’s skull had just done.

  ‘The cane is from the original blackthorn bush that was in the master’s family,’ snapped Spike. ‘No more talking about the master and you must call him Master Blackthorn.’ The gang went quiet. She noticed that their skulls had gone unusually still while the gang had talked.

  ‘More like an overgrown walking stick,’ muttered Dog.

  ‘What did you just say?’ said Spike, taking a step towards him.

  ‘Just want to get rid of this girl and get on with making deathburners.’

  ‘I am watching you.’ Spike’s skull now turned and watched Dog. The skull was chilling.

  Deelind could not hold her head up as a wave of ice burnt its way through her body. Now facing the ground, she could see it was the same grey earth that the deathburners had created around her gran’s cottage where they had hit the ground.

  ‘Dog, let her go so that she can see her future,’ ordered Spike.

  Dog let her fall to the ground with a hard thump. Spike stepped forward and roughly pulled her face up. She gasped in pain at his touch and then again at the scene in front of her. There in the middle of the school field was a huge hole in the ground.

  ‘Master’s new fort,’ gloated Spike.

  ‘But it’s a hole in the ground,’ said Oscar.

  ‘You fool. You are seeing the foundations. This level is going to be the dungeons where the Dragonknights, wild dragons and molers will be held and tortured.’ Even from the awkward angle Spike held her head at, she could still see the basic layout of the dungeons, which had thick stone walls. The fort’s moat was filled with the same hedge that now surrounded the town.

  ‘Look!’ said Oscar, pointing at a figure dressed in a black cloak with a black hood hiding its face.

  ‘The Black Sister Hood,’ whispered Spike who appeared subdued at the sight of them. ‘They will be the dungeon guards and not even my dad will be able to escape this fort. The centre cell is going to be where Master Blackthorn locks up Princess Lee.’ Releasing her head with a jerk, he snarled, ‘Master might curse you into one of them or one touch from them and you will have the Black Death.’ She could now see a few of the Black Sisters wandering around inside the building site. They wore long, black dresses with a hood. Molers and townsfolk were working on the fortress. Each time a Black Sister walked close to someone they would put their heads down and work twice as hard. In the centre of the dungeon lay bodies, black, rotting and covered with flies. Rodents swarmed around them.

  Molers were building the fort? Looking around, it became clear that between the Black Sister Hood and the hedge surrounding the fort the molers were trapped into doing Blackthorn’s bidding.

  The fields surrounding the fort were planted with rows and rows of bushes. Townsfolk were on their knees harvesting leaves from the plants, their faces grey and dirty. They seemed only there in body. Their souls were gone or in hiding. Please let me not end up like that. If only she could speak with Zara, but it seemed it was down to her to get herself out of this mess.

  ‘Grab that wheelbarrow,’ said Spike, ‘and put her in it. I want her to have a good, long look.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mark, Spike’s best friend. Mark wheeled the wheelbarrow up to her while Dog picked her up and dumped her into it. Mark picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed. Instead of following the road to town, they left it and went over rough ground towards the back of the fort. She could feel every bump in the path, which either burnt or froze her, but at least she was able to see the fields, which used to be the school’s sports field. They were in a section of field just behind the fort. The bushes seemed to be the smallest here with few people about. Going further towards the town the larger the bushes became with more townsfolk tending them. The bushes had small berries on them, and the leaves were exuding a light grey smoke. By the time they reached the far side of the field the bushes were huge with big blue berries and the same thick, black smoke rising from them as the hedge. It was clear that Blackthorn had been in production for some time. People were harvesting the berries into baskets while others carried them back to town. No one appeared to notice the gang. These townsfolk looked worse than any of the others she had seen so far.

  Mark pushed the wheelbarrow over what looked and smelt like a dead body. Somewhat thankfully, the drug fog swirled in and she felt herself distancing from everything around her. They left the field and arrived on the edge of town.

  ‘Take her to the town hall, Dog, and leave her there. I will get Dad to put her to work in the fields. Better still, maybe a kiss from the Sister Hood. They are a hundred times worse than IceFire.’ Spike laughed loudly, sounding pleased with himself. Dog took over pushing the wheelbarrow while the rest of the gang wandered towards Blackthorn Farm. Her mind fog thickened, and she drifted away. Dog ran the wheelbarrow, with her in it, to the front door of the town hall and left her outside.

  * * *

  Deelind lay where she was put, floating in a drugged haze. The little voice deep inside her screamed to her to get up, to save herself, but the fog was too thick, and she couldn’t find the effort to care. Her head rolled back, and she could see the dark black smoke clouds hanging in the air above the town, constantly flickering with lightning and growling with thunder. Gradually her mind cleared, and lucidity crept back in. How long had she been lying here when she should have been escaping? It was time to go dragon and fly away when no one was around. She focused inwards and concentrated, but nothing happened. She tried to call Zara again, but the barrier
was still up. She heard a noise behind her and recognised the annoying voice immediately. It was Rose, Spike’s sister.

  ‘Well, what do we have here?’ asked Rose in her high-pitched voice. ‘This must be what Daddy promised me. My very own slave! Here, take some more, DeeDee.’

  Ugh, DeeDee. The name was horrible, but Deelind could do nothing but nod in agreement.

  ‘This is a special dose. It’s called IceFire Crystal and much stronger than IceFire Dust. IceFire Crystal is designed to keep your simple mind clear but your body unable to disobey anyone who has given you a dose of IceFire Crystal,’ she said with a cruel smile. ‘This dose is from Dad’s personal batch, of course.’ Rose slipped a bag from her dress pocket, tipped a tiny crystal onto her palm and pushed it into Deelind’s mouth.

  This IceFire felt different and much more intense. She tried to spit it out, but it was already dissolving and burning a path down her throat. Her eyes started to water from the heat. She waited, knowing that the ice came next, and wasn’t disappointed. Apart from fire and freeze which she was becoming a little accustomed to, she felt the fog roll away and clarity pour into her mind. It was time to get out of here. She willed her body to move. Nothing. Not even the slightest movement no matter how hard she pushed with her mind.

  Rose squealed shrilly, clapping her hands, ‘You just tried to move, didn’t you? Answer me!’

  Deelind nodded.

  ‘Of course, you did. You had to try,’ Rose said with a shrug, ‘but, silly, I told you, you wouldn’t be able to control your body and you will only be able to do what you are told.’ With that, Rose rummaged in her bag, looking for something.

  Frustrated, Deelind could do little but just sit there as she awaited Rose’s next wish. She watched Rose touch up her make-up, brush her hair and chat away to herself. Rose had forgotten her, but it gave her a chance to catch up with the moments when the fog had been upon her. She was startled to find that she had almost perfect recall.

  ‘Get out of the wheelbarrow and follow me home,’ said Rose. Unable to disobey, Deelind got out of the wheelbarrow and, like a shadow, followed Rose to a large, detached, two-storey home, which was in the north-east part of Buttercup and close to Blackthorn’s farm in a road called Barons Drive. When Rose walked into her bedroom, Deelind was close behind.

  ‘Stop following me. Use the facilities and go shower,’ said Rose impatiently. ‘Here, after the shower put this dress on,’ she said pointing to a dress hanging over a chair. ‘From now on you are to manage your own body needs. Keep yourself clean and take care of any possessions on you. I won’t be seen with a dirty, scruffy slave.’

  Deelind took the dress, headed to the bathroom and did as she was ordered. She couldn’t rush or slow down. The drug controlled every aspect of her movements. Her body was still rippling with the effects of the new dose and ice tore through her. Stripping, she switched the shower on and climbed in. Millions of hot needles struck her skin. She screamed silently. The pain was worse than the Walk of Fire. She soaped herself down as best she could as fire took over from ice. The shower’s hot needles turned into stabbing icicles. By the time she finished her shower, her body was convulsing from the cold while fire raged within her. Climbing out of the shower, she took the first towel she could reach to dry herself. At the same pace she dressed. The dress was a typical preppy Rose dress. It was tight and the material strained in places. She removed the precious folded page from her jeans pocket and slipped into a dress pocket. Facing the mirror, she gasped and soundlessly wept. She looked just like the townsfolk, if not worse. Her hair was wet and lay flat against her skull. The whites of her eyes were ice-blue that changed to blood-red as the IceFire circulated around her body. She stood there for a long time, unable to leave the bathroom.

  After an hour Rose came in. ‘Why are you just standing there? Go wait outside for me.’

  She obeyed. Outside the bathroom door she stopped and waited. She was Rose’s slave.

  ‘I can’t take you shopping with me looking like that. Well, maybe I can. It’ll make me look good. I bet Dad would say not to let you out of the house, but I have to meet Ricky. If I give you some more IceFire you will not be a problem.’ Rose took out another lump of IceFire Crystal and shoved it into Deelind’s mouth.

  So many doses in such a short time was too much for her body and she collapsed onto the floor. She heard Rose leave the room as she lay there caught in the drug’s tight grip. Gradually she fell into a disturbed sleep and the nightmares began. Skulls chased her, snapping at her. Running into an old farm barn, she climbed up into the rafters to hide.

  No sooner had she hidden herself than a dark, shrouded figure entered the barn with ghost skulls swarming around him. Following him were five hideous creatures, their purple, forked tongues flicking in and out of a small, thin mouth as they continually licked their scorched, peeling faces. Deelind shivered. The way they behaved and the smell they exuded made her wonder if these weren’t rotvipers in their blighted human form. Their two yellow, sunken eyes glittered with malice. Their ears and nose were missing, and deep, raw cracks spread across their skin. Chunks of charred skin hung off them. A member of the Black Sister Hood entered in behind them and she, along with the creatures, knelt in a circle around the dark figure.

  ‘My gargoyles will break free soon and then we move forward with the plan. Brakenhill may take time to fall but we will lay siege to them. We will squeeze them out,’ said the figure, his voice filled with hatred. ‘Once we have them, then we will conquer the world! We’ll take each city one at a time and before we know it, we will have taken over a country and then another and another. It will happen fast because my sister has obligingly put my creatures in place for me.’ Realising who was talking, Deelind gasped. This must be Blackthorn and she was listening in on his meeting!

  ‘Who’s there? Show yourself!’ shouted Blackthorn, fury boiled in his voice.

  Whirling to address his ghost skulls and the five creatures lying at his feet, he said darkly, ‘Find it. Bring this intruder to me!’ He stormed out of the barn. She watched the creatures and ghost skulls search the barn. They were looking for her. This nightmare felt so real, too real. The search party threw aside everything in their path. Once they had searched the floor, they worked up the walls. It wasn’t going to be long before they found her.

  ‘Help!’ she screamed in her mind.

  CHAPTER 16

  BLACKTHORN

  ‘Get up, you lazy cow,’ said Rose, kicking Deelind awake. She felt her body rise and she stood waiting for her next command. Her thoughts scrambled. Somehow Blackthorn heard her in her dream and eventually he would have found her. For once she was grateful to see Rose. ‘Have you been lying there the entire time? Couldn’t you think of something to do?’ Rose said, pouting mockingly. ‘No? Oh yes, you don’t have a mind of your own!’ She howled in delight, then ordered, ‘Run me a bath and clean the house.’ Deelind watched her body obey. She was still cleaning when Mr Drake walked into the house.

  ‘Who is this?’ he said to Rose, pointing at Deelind.

  ‘She is my slave,’ said Rose frowning. ‘You gave her to me.’

  ‘No!’ said Mr Drake and he grabbed Deelind by the arm and marched her out of the house, ignoring Rose’s screams of anger. His grip dug deep into her arm and she could do nothing but follow him. He marched them through the town, which was looking dirty, old and dark, and smelt of death. The firestorm she had seen brewing over the town was now a raging storm. The air was hot and dry. Small, fiery deathburners were falling from the black clouds. No one was out on the streets. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of shadows moving quickly from one building to another. She had the strong feeling that they were the ghost skulls from the barn nightmare that were still looking for her. As they walked past the town centre, she saw Spike’s gang sitting on the fountain looking bored. Spike sneered at Deelind.

  ‘Dad?’ Spike yelled out. ‘I can take her. Nothing is too horrible for this one.’

&nb
sp; ‘No, Spike. Master Blackthorn has asked for a servant and at least she is clean.’ Frowning, he said, ‘Why are you lot not out patrolling?’ Deelind was relieved not to be sent with Spike, but to Blackthorn instead? Her options certainly weren’t great.

  ‘It’s boring, Dad,’ Spike whined. ‘When can we go and attack the molers?’

  ‘Go patrol. Now!’ said Mr Drake. ‘Now, Spike. Move!’ he thundered when Spike and his gang hadn’t budged. This time, Mr Drake’s skull shot forward and snarled at Spike. The gang got up hastily and headed off. ‘No playing with the deathburners, Spike!’ Mr Drake called after him. ‘If he blows up the deathburners Blackthorn will skin both of us alive,’ he muttered to himself and then went silent. Suddenly Mr Drake’s skull turned and faced him. A ghostly menacing voice said, ‘Come now.’

  ‘Come,’ said Mr Drake to Deelind, ‘we have all been summoned.’ Mr Drake marched her towards the town hall. She could see Spike, his gang and other men who had skulls protruding from their right upper arms heading towards the town hall. Passing through the town centre she saw the beautiful, old oak tree that had grown there for decades, now dead and burnt and continually being struck by lightning. The town hall faced onto the town square. It was a wooden, double-storey building with a brick façade. Like all the other buildings in the town, small deathburner strikes were evident on the building’s walls. The deathburners were too small to do much damage, but they had left scorch marks down the sides of the walls.

  Movement on the roof caught her eye. Stone faces were trying to pull themselves out of the walls along the rooftop. The same thing was happening on the church and library roofs. The gargoyles seemed in pain, but it was hard to feel sympathy once you caught their evil expressions. She swallowed. If they got loose, she could see them ripping people’s heads off. Some of the gargoyles had wings which they were trying to use to help them break free of the walls.