Deelind and The Icefire

by Lance Dempster

Mr Drake pulled her onto the top step of the town hall. There were two of Drake’s men, members of Blackthorn’s army, standing at the front door guarding the entrance.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ the two guards said at the same time and stood to attention.

  ‘Remain in your positions. I will fill you in after the meeting,’ Mr Drake ordered, sounding tense.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they both said, the ghost skulls on their right upper arms snarling and snapping at Deelind.

  * * *

  Deelind had only gone to the hall once a year for the Christmas pantomime. There was nothing festive about the scene in front of her now. Grey smoke curled up the walls and swirled thickly on the ceiling. Two guards stood inside of the front door and two more stood at the side exit doors.

  A massive cage took up most of the left-hand side of the hall. Inside it was a featherlite. Its wings were trapped into an open position between two cage bars and stretching far outside of the cage. The dragon was different from the featherlites she had seen. This dragon was matt. There wasn’t a shiny patch on it, no gloss to deepen or enhance its colours. It didn’t need it. The scales and feathers were a beautiful mosaic of muted tones in gold, bronze, mauve, pink, blue, green and brown. Scratches and cuts marred the wings as though someone regularly enjoyed inflicting pain on the cage occupant.

  The hall was filled with people. They all turned and watched Mr Drake and Deelind enter. A path opened up to the stage in the front, where several other smaller cages were suspended from the ceiling. Mr Drake grabbed her by the hair and pulled her down the path. Her eyes watered from the pain and her heart beat faster as they approached the big, black shape sitting on a large throne positioned on the stage.

  ‘Master!’ said Mr Drake and with surprising strength he threw her upwards. She landed on the stage and came to a stop at Blackthorn’s feet, while Mr Drake remained with the rest of the men standing at the front of the stage. ‘The new slave you requested, my master, she is hooked on IceFire and will obey.’

  Blackthorn was a large man. It was hard to see his face because overlaying his head was a translucent black, smoking skull. The skull’s fiery, glowing eyes hid his own eyes. He wore a long, smooth, black, ghostly cloak that covered his body in such a way that you could barely make out the man inside. He not only looked creepy, but also stank of evil and death. The hairs on Deelind’s body stood up in fear. She was too scared to look directly at him. The ghost skull overlaying Blackthorn’s head moved independently as though it had a life of its own. It shot forward at Deelind, licking and snapping at her face before darting in another direction.

  Blackthorn leaned on a large, thick, black wooden staff, covered in carvings of interwoven skulls with smoke coming out of their eyes, mouth and ears.

  He didn’t appear to pay any attention to Mr Drake or Deelind for a moment. The knob of the staff was a large skull that looked just like the one that surrounded Blackthorn’s head. Suddenly Blackthorn picked up his staff and walked over to Deelind. She wished she could just disappear into the smoke covering the walls.

  ‘What have we here?’ Blackthorn said to the hall. He pointed his staff at her face. She shivered when she saw one of the skull heads carved into the bottom of the stick become red-hot. She could feel the heat from the bottom of the staff as Blackthorn ran it over her body. The hairs on her body singed, and when he stopped at her right shoulder it melted her sleeve. She suddenly realised that this was how Blackthorn branded his army.

  Please no, please no, please no, the litany went on in her head. She did not want to be branded. ‘Should I mark you and make you my servant forever?’ said Blackthorn with a cruel smile. ‘Yes? No?’ Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead as she shook in fear. If he marked her then she would not be able to return to the manor house and fly with the Dragonknights. No! This can’t be happening. The three heads were right. She was about to become a servant of Blackthorn.

  ‘Shut up,’ said a voice filled with a breeze that tugged on her hair. ‘If he figures out you are a featherlite you will experience things far worse than branding!’ The breeze withdrew. Suddenly the caged dragon roared its displeasure at the hall full of people.

  ‘Silence, you pathetic man!’ Blackthorn yelled at the featherlite. Blackthorn turned to one of his men and said, ‘Collar her. She can be the new keeper of my Dragonknight.’ Blackthorn swung around and brought his staff down hard on the dragon’s wing. The sound of the wing being struck echoed through the hall. Deelind winced inside. The Dragonknight had provided the distraction to help her.

  One of Blackthorn’s men picked up an iron ring and secured the cold metal around her neck. The slave collar was attached to a long chain that was locked onto an iron peg in the ground near the cage. The weight of the ring and its chain made the iron collar dig into her neck. Not again, she despaired, tears pricking her eyes.

  ‘You will clean his cage and feed and water all the cages,’ said the man. ‘If he dies, you die. If he misbehaves, you will be punished. Whatever he does not eat, you get to eat. Got it?’ he said and without waiting to see if she understood, he threw some IceFire Crystal at her. ‘Take this, three times a day.’ She knew she was not going to be able to resist. Not only was she addicted, but she also seemed unable to disobey. She grabbed the IceFire and swallowed it. Her craving for it had grown. She was caught between horror and disgust and not caring at all. It seemed IceFire was all about contradictions.

  ‘Drake!’ said Blackthorn. Mr Drake ran forward, knelt at Blackthorn’s feet and put his forehead on the ground in front of Blackthorn’s boots.

  ‘Yes, Master?’

  ‘Are the deathburners finished yet?’

  ‘Master, we will be ready in a few months.’

  ‘Not good enough. I want to strike now, you fool!’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ whispered Mr Drake.

  ‘Increase your patrols around the town. I do not want the defence failing me,’ said Blackthorn. ‘And step up the new bushes. I want them ready for our attack and the siege of Brakenhill.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘Where is that pathetic son of yours?’

  ‘Here, Master,’ said Spike, running forward and assuming the same position as his father at Blackthorn’s feet. His skull stretched up to Blackthorn and they seemed to have a conversation.

  ‘I know where you are, you fool. Your skull watches you for me!’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘Your skull reports that you have been talking about me,’ said the cold and quiet voice. ‘I will not tolerate anyone discussing me and my past. I am your master and that is all you need to know!’

  Mr Drake’s skull stretched over his neck and started snapping at Spike and his skull as if it was disciplining him. The two skulls engaged in a biting fight, which stopped immediately when Blackthorn sent his skull down to bite them both.

  Spike and his father screamed in agony. She could see blood running down both their cheeks.

  ‘You are both a disgrace! Serve me and serve me well or die a painful death!’ screamed Blackthorn at them and the rest of the hall. Spike’s skull had bitten into his neck and was not letting go. Blood was slowly trickling down onto his chest. ‘Who is next to join my service?’ Blackthorn said in barely controlled fury.

  ‘Dog, my master,’ said Spike, bloodied and trembling.

  ‘Dog, step forward, and away with you two,’ said Blackthorn. Mr Drake and Spike scrambled away from the stage but only as far as the front row.

  Dog was at the back of the hall and found himself pushed forward towards the stage. He quickly fell at Blackthorn’s feet.

  ‘Remove your shirt!’

  Dog’s face looked white and worried as he removed his shirt and knelt in front of Blackthorn.

  Blackthorn lifted his staff. The bottom end had a carved skull stamp that glowed red, and black smoke began to swirl from it. Deelind saw Dog grit his teeth and close his eyes as Blackthorn brought his fiery stick down on Dog’s right upper arm. Instantly the smell of bu
rning flesh filled the hall. Dog’s body began to shake but he did not fall over. A new skull formed on Blackthorn’s staff. A white light flowed out of Dog’s body, up the staff and into the new skull. Deelind watched as Blackthorn’s own ghost skull and body grew bigger. When the fire on the end of the staff faded, Blackthorn pulled the stick away and there was a new red skull branded on Dog’s arm. Slowly a skull started to pull itself out of the branding. When it was fully out it opened its eyes and looked around. Dog opened his eyes and immediately bowed low, arms and hands stretched out flat on the floor at Blackthorn’s feet.

  ‘My master,’ he said.

  Blackthorn had already turned and walked away and was now seated on his stone throne. To his audience he said, ‘Leave and prepare for war!’

  Everyone quickly left the hall in silence. Deelind, chained and collared, was left in the hall with Blackthorn. She sat as quietly as possible, hoping not to draw attention to herself. Luckily Blackthorn seemed to be talking to his skulls rather than paying her any attention.

  Looking around, she saw that, like her, the occupants of the cages were sitting still and quiet. There was one moler, two men and four women in the other cages. Two of the cages were empty. To her surprise she recognised one of the women as Spike and Rose’s mother. Why on earth would Mrs Drake be locked up in a cage by Blackthorn?

  The morning passed by slowly until suddenly Blackthorn got up and walked out of the hall. As soon as he left, all the cage occupants reached out with their hands, causing their cages to swing.

  ‘Quick, feed us,’ said the moler.

  ‘Yes, water. Quick,’ whispered one of the humans in another cage.

  A brisk breeze created whirls in the long grass as the voice said, ‘You need to water and feed everyone as quickly as possible, before he gets back or he will kick you around and beat the cages.’

  Taking a breath, she nodded. ‘I’m Deelind. Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Rudy. We will talk later. Get on with feeding everyone.’ A gust of wind pushed at her in urgency.

  Rudy! She’d found him! Did being made prisoner alongside Rudy count as finding him? Not that it mattered if they couldn’t find a way to escape. The council members had thought Rudy was dead or turned traitor. None of them had suspected he was Blackthorn’s prisoner.

  Her chain and iron collar made moving slow and noisy. She saw a bucket of water with a soup ladle in it. She picked it up, taking it from one cage to another. Each person stretched down and took the ladle of water from her. They all wanted more.

  ‘No. One spoon per cage or you will run out of water and time,’ said Rudy as she was about to give a second spoon to the first cage. Her chain allowed her just enough slack to reach each cage. When she reached the second to last cage, she saw Mrs Drake was crying.

  ‘Why are you here?’ whispered Deelind to Mrs Drake, but that just brought on more silent crying and so she moved on quickly.

  ‘Who are you? What is going on? Is someone coming to rescue us?’ asked the moler.

  She heard the whisper of wind through the leaves. ‘Do not let on that you know anything or that you are a featherlite. If they find out they will try to trade you for their freedom.’

  ‘I do not know what you are talking about!’ she said to the moler, hastily moving on to the next cage before the moler could push the point. Finished giving out the water, she looked for food to give them but there was nothing.

  ‘We seldom get food,’ said Rudy. ‘Now, throw your IceFire drug as far away as you can so that you cannot reach it, but do not let the others see you. Make sure that none of his men can find it.’

  ‘Why? I need to take it,’ she said, aware of the slight whine in her voice.

  ‘Because if you do not get off IceFire you will not be able to transform and get us out of here,’ said Rudy and the tops of trees swayed. ‘That collar does not have a lock. It will only come off if you change and it breaks in the transformation or if Blackthorn removes your head.’

  She gulped, feeling a little queasy. ‘But I can just change with IceFire in me.’ No way was she throwing the drugs away.

  ‘Your dragon will not let you change. If you do, it will mean you will fall immediately under Blackthorn’s control and that will be the end of us featherlites and Brakenhill! Now throw it away.’ The wind slapped at her.

  It was impossible for Deelind to throw the drug away, instead she hid it in her dress pocket.

  ‘Are you on IceFire, then?’

  ‘No! I will never take that stuff!’ A tornado whirled past, filled with flying debris. ‘In this form, it’s hard for them to force it on me. I can handle their rough treatment better because my dragon takes over most of the time. Our dragons do not feel pain like we do. Soon, however, my dragon will take full control and I am not sure I will be able to return.’

  ‘Why not go human when Blackthorn is not here?’

  ‘While he has my wings locked open, if I go human it will break both my arms. I would be left injured, exposed and unable to fly. He is trying to break me, the fool. Unfortunately, being stuck in this cage, I have learnt little about what he is planning. He does not hold his council in the hall. This is just a place to show his power and enforce his authority.’

  ‘I think he holds his council sessions in an old farm barn,’ she said. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt Rudy focus on her. The wind had dropped completely. She felt like she was in the eye of the storm when his dragon head, full of big teeth, loomed over her. Suddenly the bars of his cage didn’t seem strong enough to hold him.

  ‘Now, how would you know that?’ said Rudy, his tone deceptively calm.

  Hastily Deelind explained her IceFire dream to him. The tension eased but Rudy remained pensive. She could sense him mulling over details and information, putting them into some form of order.

  ‘Hmm, you are an interesting featherlite,’ he mused, and a light breeze danced over her clothing and skin, ‘freshly melded, younger than eighteen if I’m not mistaken. Unusual enough in these times. Even with you under the powerful effects of IceFire, my dragon form can sense how strong your dragon is. Featherlites don’t meld with partners weaker than themselves. They are always equal in dominance. I have a suspicion that finding yourself in predicaments like the IceFire dream and as Blackthorn’s slave is not unusual for you. You must be causing quite a stir on the other side of the hedge,’ he said with a wide smile, shiny teeth catching the little bit of light in the room.

  Deelind blinked at him in wide-eyed innocence and Rudy laughed. Smiling, she rolled her head, trying to ease the discomfort of the collar digging into her neck.

  ‘Where are the keys to the cages and locks?’ she said.

  ‘They are behind Blackthorn’s chair,’ said Rudy. ‘I’m not sure how to get them. Your chain will not let you reach behind the chair.’

  There was a sudden loud noise. The door to the hall flew open and then slammed closed. She and all the cage occupants turned towards the noise. The wind howled when Rudy screamed, ‘Quick, throw me your drugs. Now!’ In reflex she threw her bag of IceFire at Rudy’s cage. The bag landed on the cage floor and she saw Rudy use his foot to pull it towards himself.

  ‘How did you know I had not thrown them away?’

  ‘No addict can just throw their drugs away, and you have enough IceFire in you that you will have to obey the instructions given to you. Slowly the dose will wear off and you will get your own will back. Silence now. There must be no talking while he is around.’

  Deelind pulled herself as far away from Blackthorn’s chair as the chain would allow and lay down on the cold floor. Blackthorn walked up to and slumped into his chair all the while arguing with his skulls. She was so incredibly tired that she slipped into sleep.

  * * *

  Deelind was jolted awake. The pain around her neck was incredible and she was unable to breathe. She was being dragged along the floor to Blackthorn’s chair.

  ‘I called you!’ said Blackthorn. ‘Bring me water!’ She l
eapt to her feet immediately when Blackthorn stopped pulling her. She obeyed the command, but could sense a subtle resistance to the order. She filled a mug on the table next to Blackthorn’s chair with water and tried to hand it to him.

  ‘On your knees, slave!’ said Blackthorn. ‘Approach me on your knees, head down. I do not want to see you.’ She dropped to her knees straightaway, bowed her head and then continued crawling towards him. Just as she was about to get to him there was a loud crash on the ceiling. Blackthorn jumped up, his movement pushing over his chair. The keys to the lock fell towards her, but just out of reach. Using the spoon from the table, she reached and pulled the keys towards her. Grabbing them, she dropped them into her pocket. Looking up to see what the noise was all about, she saw a featherlite flying down into the hall through a huge hole it had made in the roof.

  Splat! A loud squelching sound hit the floor. Deelind could see half of a rotviper body lying on the floor at Blackthorn’s feet. She guessed it was the one which Captain Roeland had cut in half. The body was covered in small, oily, black scales. A wet-looking, black leather wing hung limply from its side. The decomposing stench of the rotting carcass quickly engulfed the air, making Deelind retch. It was sickening. The insides of the rotviper’s organs were shades of black and rotting. Maggots crawled around inside it and oily fluids seeped out of it onto the floor.

  ‘Faces down!’ shouted Blackthorn to the room, stepping in front of Deelind and blocking her view of the rotviper. Deelind and the occupants of the cages all fell face-down. She felt the featherlite go human and whisper to Blackthorn, ‘My master, I have managed to steal your rotviper body back from the Dragonknights.’ She wanted to look to see what was happening but all she could see was the base of Blackthorn’s staff.

  ‘You are late!’ said Blackthorn, ‘I wanted it back weeks ago. Do not keep me waiting again.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ whispered the featherlite.

  She could not make out the voice. Was it male or female? She could see the traitor’s body. It was wearing a Black Sister Hood dress. With the hood up, she could not see the face. It must be a woman. She was one of the cursed! Was it Sergeant Sam?