The Last of the Firedrakes (The Avalonia Chronicles Book 1)

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  What had I done now? I wasn’t exactly the best student these days. I knew that. But I had made it a point to scrape through just enough to stay out of my headmistress’s way until now.

  Ms. Holden glared at me. “Aurora, I’d like to see you in my office.” She nodded perfunctorily at the bespectacled Mr. Roberts, who looked utterly terrified of her, as she walked out of the room.

  I gathered my books and bag and got up from my desk. A few girls sniggered behind me, but I was used to it. Ever since my parents died, everyone spoke to me in hushed voices, as if I might crack any minute, or they talked and whispered about me behind my back. I had learned to ignore it and move on. But after what happened today, I knew exactly what they were laughing about. I hung my head and hurried out of the classroom.

  Headmistress Holden’s office was much smaller than I had expected. I closed the door behind me and turned to stare at the long and angular face of my uncle, Christopher Darlington. He wore his usual gray pinstripe suit and dabbed his sweaty forehead with a crumpled handkerchief, which he dug out of his pocket.

  What was he doing here? Cornelia’s face flashed before my eyes. I really hoped I wasn’t in trouble for something I had not done—again. I wouldn’t put it past her to frame me for one of her mistakes. She had done it to me before.

  My uncle looked at me with dark, brooding eyes hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses as he pushed his sandy hair out of his eyes. “Good afternoon, Aurora.”

  I nodded.

  Christopher didn’t hate me like my aunt and cousin. Most of the time he treated me like I wasn’t even there. He wasn’t nasty to me, but he never stood up for me either. We barely said two words to each other, and I only saw him at dinnertime. He worked at a bank, I was told, and was usually out of the house before I woke up.

  Ms. Holden cleared her throat before she began. “Aurora, my dear.” Her voice was so different from her usual rude, clipped tone that I was momentarily taken aback. She always had a sour look on her face, as though she had eaten a whole bowl of lemons. I had never even seen a flicker of a smile on her face, and now she was grinning away like her life depended on it. “Your uncle has requested for you to take a leave of absence from school.”

  “Right now?” I blurted out. No one had said anything about this.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she gave me a stern look, her lips a thin line. “Let me finish. Your grades have been steadily slipping and you have barely passed most of your classes this year.”

  “But . . .” I interrupted.

  Ms. Holden held up her hand. “Nevertheless, I have decided to grant you leave this time, since your uncle has explained the circumstances.”

  I frowned. “Which are?”

  Ms. Holden clasped her hands in front of her. “I am sure your uncle will explain it to you.”

  I shot my uncle a questioning look, but he remained silent. I wasn’t too disappointed; after all, missing so many days of school would be great. And that meant I would be away from all the pointing and whispering, which had been happening constantly since the whole school heard about my incident with Alex Carrington.

  Christopher stood up and shook Ms. Holden’s hand. “Thank you. You have been most helpful. I will have her back in a few days.” He walked across the room and opened the door. “Come on, Aurora, we have a busy day ahead.”

  I remained silent, gathered my things, and followed my uncle out of the headmistress’s gloomy office. I had no idea what was going on, but I was sure I’d find out soon enough.

  Redstone Manor

  As soon as we got home, I packed my meager belongings in an old duffel bag that Aunt Arianna had brought down for me from the attic. It was splitting at the seams and the handle was torn, but somehow I managed to lug it down the stairs and out onto the street.

  My uncle had explained that we were all going on a trip. He and the family had been invited to his boss’s country house for a few days, and Uncle Christopher insisted that we leave immediately.

  This was why I was pulled out of school? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until the holidays?

  The last time they went away, Aunt Arianna left me with Mrs. Haversham, who lived across the street. She had two uncontrollable little children, and in way of payment for my room and food, I had to babysit the little devils. It wasn’t that I didn’t like children, but seven-year-old twin boys were a bit more than I could handle.

  A big, black Range Rover was parked outside the house. Uncle Christopher was sitting in the front passenger seat, and a chauffeur in a hat got out and opened the door for me to get in. I handed the chauffeur my luggage and got into the roomy back seat, where Aunt Arianna and Cornelia were waiting.

  We drove at a leisurely pace due to the traffic while leaving the city. But within half an hour I could see Windsor Castle rising up in the distance above the treetops, and soon we were in the countryside. Uncle Christopher had mentioned it was going to be a long journey, so I closed my eyes and decided to nap.

  When I woke up with a crick in my neck, it had become chilly, and there was a nip in the air. I gazed out at the trees whizzing past and shivered a little as I pulled my favorite coffee-colored leather jacket closer around me. The spring evening was gloomy as dusk settled over the hills in the distance turning the sky to a dark burnished orange. Bright green meadows and lush woods whizzed past as we drove, but I had no idea which part of the country we were in.

  “Another few minutes and you’ll be able to see the house,” said Uncle Christopher, sitting up straighter in his seat.

  I peered out the backseat window. A light mist rolled around our car as if searching for a way to get in. No house in sight! Not that you could see much with twilight setting in. We must have been traveling for hours, and I was exhausted.

  Cornelia didn’t even bother to look up; she huffed and continued texting away on her new, rose gold iPhone.

  When the house finally came into view, I had to admit that Uncle Christopher was right to get so excited. The “house,” as he called it, was not just a house—it was a massive, centuries-old structure called Redstone Manor.

  As we drove through the gargantuan iron gates and up the grand sweeping driveway lined with old spruces and ancient oak trees, Uncle Christopher chattered on in his irritating nasal voice. “Redstone Manor was built over three hundred years ago, and it has been in my boss’s family ever since.” He puffed out his chest, as if he had something to do with it.

  The manor house was an enormous structure, made up of high walls and towering turrets. It looked more like a miniature castle than a house. Emerald green ivy and flowering creepers of dusky rose climbed the red stone walls, and massive arched windows embellished with decorative paneling lined the sprawling house. It was absolutely enchanting.

  “Welcome to Redstone Manor,” said my uncle.

  As we drove up to the massive front porch supported by great stone pillars, I was more than excited. I had never been inside a real English manor house before, and I was looking forward to exploring the property.

  A thin, stern-looking lady with spectacles and a severe white bun stood at the top of the steps to greet us. She introduced herself as the housekeeper, Mrs. Crowley.

  Standing to her right was a portly man, smartly dressed, with his shoes polished to perfection. He was Mr. Morsley, the butler. “Welcome to Redstone Manor, Mr. Darlington.”

  “Yes, yes, glad to be here,” said Christopher, puffing out his chest again. He was obviously feeling very important right about now. He cleared his throat. “When will I be able to meet Lord Oblek?”

  “His Lordship was delayed. He will meet with you tomorrow when he returns,” said Mr. Morsely.

  “Follow me and I will show you to your rooms.” Mrs. Crowley’s tone was crisp, and she reminded me a little of Ms. Holden. “The footmen will take your luggage. I will have some food sent up. You must be tired from your long journey.”

  My uncle and aunt nodded and beamed as if they were being shown into Buckingham P
alace as we followed the housekeeper up the broad stone steps and into the massive house.

  The great arched oak doors opened into a massive foyer with a grand staircase that led to the upper floors. An ornate crystal chandelier glittered from the high-beamed ceiling, lighting up the polished walnut floors. Beautifully carved statues and huge paintings lined the walls of the mahogany-paneled corridors, and I gaped at my surroundings as I tried to take it all in.

  I fiddled with my medallion and followed Mrs. Crowley. I couldn’t understand what we were doing here. The butler referred to the owner of this house as His Lordship. Was he an earl? A duke?

  The housekeeper showed us to our rooms and left me to unpack and freshen up. Cornelia and I had a whole suite of rooms: two bedrooms and a large, comfortable living room beautifully decorated with wallpaper of dusky pink blossoms curling over a pale cream background. The vast arched windows were ornamented with scalloped curtains in a sumptuous forest green and lined with burnished gold tassels.

  I wandered around the room and sat on the edge of my bed. I wished for the thousandth time that my life were different, that somehow my adoptive parents hadn’t died in the car crash. I even wondered occasionally what my life would have been like if my birth parents hadn’t given me up. But it was no use wondering; it was not going to bring anybody back.

  I had already decided that I was going to make the most of this place and I wasn’t going to let my cousin’s presence spoil my experience here. I liked history, and being in a house this old made me very curious to explore its secrets.

  There was a tray laid out in the living room with dainty cucumber sandwiches and small savory puff pastries. I popped a few in my mouth and went in for a relaxing bath.

  Even though I was exhausted from traveling most of the day, I wouldn’t be able to sleep without reading for a while. I was quite sure that a house of this size must have a library where I could look for a good book. After I had my bath and changed into my pajamas, I put on my pink, fleece dressing gown and resolved to look for it.

  I walked quickly down the long corridors of the massive manor, occasionally passing white-capped maids in uniform shuffling busily out of rooms, arms laden with linens or clothes. After many dead ends and locked doors, I finally stopped one of the maids and asked for directions. I was pointed toward another, darker wing of the house.

  It was eerie in the east wing, and cobwebs hung in the corners of the shadowy corridors. I tried a few doors and found myself in various stuffy rooms with white dust covers that obscured the furniture. This part of the house looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a long time, and the rooms smelled musty and unused.

  I had nearly given up my search when I noticed a big oak door at the far end of the corridor. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the corridor ahead with a spectral white sheen. I pushed the heavy door open slightly and peered inside.

  Finally! The library. Now if only I could find a good book.

  The beautiful oak-lined library was a remarkable space. It was the only room in this part of the house that looked like it was cleaned every day and pristinely kept. A first-floor gallery ran along one side of the gigantic room, adorned by an intricately crafted, church-like ceiling. Two large leather armchairs were placed on opposite sides of a small round mahogany reading table, and the gleaming walnut floor was covered with plush Persian rugs. Along one wall, two immense bay windows, both hosting a cushion-covered window seat, overlooked the vast manicured gardens of Redstone Manor.

  Perfect for reading.

  As I walked farther into the massive library, my eyes were drawn to the wall at the very end of the room, and I was immediately mesmerized. The entire wall at the far end was swallowed up by a huge tapestry, which dominated the whole space. It was a delicate and elaborate weave, depicting a lush but dark forest surrounding a crystal-clear lake, with a medieval castle glistening in the distance.

  This was definitely my favorite room in the house.

  I turned back to the bookshelves. Redstone Manor had an excellent collection. I was at a loss as to where to start. The walls of the enormous room were packed from top to bottom with shelves, filled with a seemingly countless array of books. Some were newly bought and some looked as though they must have come with the house many centuries ago. This seemed like a dream come true.

  Just as I found the complete Chronicles of Narnia, I heard someone at the door. I don’t know what came over me, but I panicked and dove behind one of the large leather armchairs.

  My heartbeat quickened as I peered out from behind my hiding place, feeling immensely stupid.

  I tensed. It was Uncle Christopher. What was he doing down here at this time of night? Looking for a book seemed like the only reasonable explanation.

  I was about to come out from behind the chair and announce myself when I realized that he wasn’t going toward the books, but toward the tapestry.

  What was he up to?

  Christopher stopped abruptly in front of the tapestry and stared at it. I stayed where I was because I had no idea what he was doing and I didn’t want to startle him. I looked over at the door of the library. It was shut, and there was no way I could leave the room without Uncle Christopher noticing.

  So I crouched and waited.

  My uncle was definitely acting very oddly. That became eminently clear when he held out his arms, palms facing outward, and touched the tapestry.

  I felt a breeze whisk through the room. I turned to the windows, but they were shut. A rustling noise startled me, and I looked back at my uncle. My mouth fell open as I stared mutely at the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

  The tapestry on the wall shimmered like moonlight on water, while the rustling noise and the breeze came from inside it. I spotted the bushes in the tapestry moving slightly, and sudden, strange ripples started forming in the fabric, expanding from the middle, like when you throw a pebble in a pond. A chill scuttled down my spine as I watched a big, booted leg and an arm come through the tapestry. Slowly, finally, a whole body emerged.

  I had to clap my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from gasping aloud. A big, rough-looking man in a fur-lined black cloak, with a patch over one eye and a massive sword that swung at his rather large waist, stepped out of the tapestry and into the library of Redstone Manor.

  Everything happened so quickly, I couldn’t even think. I knew I should say something and excuse myself, but then my uncle might think I was spying on him. In fact, I was much too fascinated to do anything more than crouch behind the large leather armchair and see what happened next.

  Finally the stranger spoke, his voice a deep rumble. “Christopher, do you have the girl?” Numerous scars crisscrossed his thickly bearded face.

  For a moment I wondered what had happened to him to disfigure him so. But then my thoughts whirled quickly back to the main questions clamoring in my head. How on earth did he appear out of the tapestry? What was on the other side? Who was this man? And what girl were they talking about?

  Christopher bowed slightly to the black-cloaked man. “Yes, Lord Oblek.”

  Oblek leveled a hard look at my uncle, his one good eye widening in expectation. “Is she here, in the house?”

  “Yes, I have brought her to Redstone Manor as you requested.” Christopher quickly stepped back. “Are you sure she’s the right one?”

  Why did he look so nervous? I couldn’t understand who or what they were talking about, but I started to get a really bad feeling that I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Yes, of course I’m sure.” Oblek’s condescending tone was harsh. “Would I have wasted years of my life searching for her, only to find the wrong girl?”

  My uncle shook his head and dabbed his perspiring head with a purple handkerchief. “Why are you so interested in Aurora, anyway?’

  My blood ran cold as fear coiled inside me. They were talking about me. What did this horrific man want with me? This made no sense.

  Oblek shot him a dark glare. “I hav
e my reasons.” He clasped his hands together. “Finally I will deliver the girl to the queen, and she will reward me beyond all imagination.”

  “Yes, yes, you can do what you like with her,” Christopher said impatiently, “but not before you pay me my fee. It has become quite considerable now, seeing as I will have to answer many questions about her when she’s gone.”

  Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. Gone? Where was I going?

  Oblek’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll get your money. But only after I have the girl in my possession. When is the earliest you can get her to me?”

  “Arianna will bring her down here at midnight,” my uncle confirmed.

  I wasn’t surprised to learn that Aunt Arianna was involved in this. She’d wanted to get rid of me ever since I moved in with her, but I thought Uncle Christopher liked me. I couldn’t believe how wrong I was. There was absolutely no one I could trust.

  Suddenly my foot cramped. I gasped, clutched at it, and started rubbing, but I had to change my position. I moved ever so slowly, adjusting myself behind the armchair, but it was a futile attempt. My shuffling had created a noise.

  Oblek whirled around, his hand on the hilt of his massive sword. “Someone’s here.”

  I moved backward, but there was nowhere to go.

  I was trapped.

  Christopher rushed over in the blink of an eye, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me up from my crouching position. “Don’t you know that it’s bad manners to eavesdrop, young lady?” His floppy gold hair was a mess; he was fuming, and his glasses were steaming up.

  “What have we here?” Lord Oblek fixed his one beady, black eye on me with a scrutinizing glare as he came toward me.

  “It’s the girl you have been searching for, my lord,” said Christopher with a thin smile on his reddened face. He pulled me along toward Oblek, clutching my arm with his bony fingers, which bit into my skin like needles.

  “You’re hurting me.” I tried to pull my arm free from his grasp, but he didn’t let go.