Starborn

by Toby Forward

“Very good,” said Waterburn.

  “I don’t want to die,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Perhaps you won’t.”

  He stood up.

  “I’m going inside,” he said. “Talk to the others. It’s been a long time.”

  Tamrin blew on the pansy. Its petals fluttered and when she stopped blowing they curled over and formed themselves into a bee. It buzzed into the air, circled her head once and flew off across the river.

  “I’m not going to let them kill me,” she said. She stood up and faced Waterburn. “I’m going to kill them.”

  He put his arm round her shoulder and walked her up to Flaxfield’s house.

  “I’ll do the same,” he said.

  The river ran softly

  past the tree and Tadpole’s hiding place. The roffle stayed half-in half-out. He had seen magic. He had seen dragons. He had met wizards. It was enough for one day, for one visit, for a first experience.

  And yet, he hadn’t seen the stars.

  But neither had he seen a kravvin.

  He could stay a little longer, wait till night, see the sky alive with stars.

  Or he could go back now. Back to the Deep World. To home and safety.

  To a telling-off, of course. Unless they hadn’t missed him. But there was no chance of that. Even less chance that he could go back and hold his tongue and not tell the others what he had seen.

  If he stayed, just one night, even just an hour into the night, he would have seen everything.

  Except a kravvin.

  What if he stayed, saw a kravvin, and didn’t live to see the stars?

  Half-in, half-out. He hesitated.

  A black beetle ran up the tree trunk, close to Tadpole’s face. He paused in his thoughts to look at it.

  He liked beetles. Glossy, hard, like jewels. Who would think that under those curved cases were delicate wings? And who would think those wings strong enough to carry that hard body?

  Tadpole smiled and let the beetle drop on to his shoulder and crawl down his sleeve. He held out his arm for the beetle to use as a platform for flight.

  A hand smacked down, hard, on his arm and grabbed him, pulling him out of the roffle door.

  The beetle span off and splashed into the river.

  Tadpole fell, only to be hauled to his feet. The hand hurt like fire. He kicked out and his legs flew up, turning him upside down. He hung suspended in mid-air.

  Twisting his head to one side, he saw Sam’s face, glaring at him.

  “Let me go,” Tadpole shouted.

  Sam let go. The pain eased. Tadpole braced himself for the fall, only to find that he remained in the air. He struggled to right himself, like a swimmer turning to find the surface. There was nothing for his hands to push against and they flailed uselessly.

  “Put me down.”

  Sam put his face close to Tadpole’s. “You shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

  “Put me down.”

  The leather thong that Delver had given him fell loose and dangled beneath his downturned head.

  “What’s this?” Sam closed his hand round it.

  “It’s a dragon’s tooth.”

  “What?” Sam was laughing.

  “It’s a dragon’s tooth.”

  Sam let the tooth fall, and it hung, swinging, out of Tadpole’s sight.

  “Dragons don’t lose their teeth. Don’t you know anything?”

  Tadpole’s anger and fright gave way to shame. Delver’s gifts, his treasures, were just junk after all.

  “That’s some old memmont’s tooth. I’ll show you dragons’ teeth.”

  Sam stepped back and raised his arms.

  Tadpole began to swing in the force of a rushing wind. He caught a glimpse of blue and green as a wing fanned his face.

  He squirmed, trying to get out of the way.

  The wing clipped his cheek. The rush of air ceased and Tadpole found himself looking into the gaping mouth of a dragon. He could smell the smoke, feel the hot breath, see the red tongue, forked and flickering.

  “See the teeth?” said Sam.

  Sharp, white and ranged in perfect order. The teeth were nothing like the yellow stump tied round Tadpole’s neck.

  Shame fought fear and Tadpole relaxed, hanging, upturned and defeated.

  The dragon backed away, revealing Tamrin, walking towards them.

  “What are you doing?”

  She clapped her hands. Tadpole, buoyed up by warm, supportive air, turned upright and floated to the ground.

  The dragon hovered, just above the height of a roffle’s head.

  “It’s so beautiful,” said Tadpole.

  Tamrin and Sam stood side by side. When they spoke Tadpole found it hard to tell which was which.

  “You shouldn’t tease him.”

  “He asked for it. He shouldn’t be here.”

  “He didn’t know.”

  “They’ve been told. All the roffles have. They know how dangerous it is.”

  “Do you think Ash will know he’s here?”

  “We should send him back now. Push him through the roffle door.”

  “There was a beetle. On his hand.”

  “I saw it.”

  Tadpole wished he could work out which was speaking. The girl hadn’t seen the beetle. She wasn’t there.

  “What about the memmont?”

  “That’ll find its way back. They always do.”

  “He’ll only come back if we push him out.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Look at him. He’s one of those meddling roffles.”

  “Perhaps it was just a beetle. You know. A beetle.”

  Tadpole interrupted.

  “I’m here, you know. I can hear what you’re saying.”

  They ignored him. As he looked at them, the dragon moved down and back, spreading its wings wide. It hovered over them so that they seemed part of it, folded under its wings. For a moment, Tadpole had the impression that the boy and girl were not speaking at all, but that the words came from the dragon.

  “He’ll have to go back.”

  All at once, Tadpole knew what he had to do. It wasn’t about magic or stars any longer. It was about doing something.

  “You can both shut up,” he said.

  “He’ll get in the way.”

  “We’ll always be having to rescue him from something.”

  “He’ll put us all in danger.”

  “That’s enough,” said Tadpole. “I’m staying. And anyway, who are you? Which of you is speaking?”

  The dragon rose up, flapped its wings, tilted and flew off, coming to rest on the roof of the house.

  Tamrin and Sam looked at each other. They both shrugged. Both turned away and walked towards the house, leaving Tadpole alone, as though he didn’t matter.

  The memmont strolled

  along the waterside, pretending to gather leaves and twigs. Tadpole knew it was just coming to make sure he was still there. He reached down and let the memmont rub its back along the palm of his hand.

  “It’s not the way I thought it would be,” he said.

  The memmont rubbed against his legs.

  “For one thing, all the books say the Up Top people like roffles and make them welcome.” He came right out from under the shade of the tree and looked up at the sky, the sun low now and casting long shadows. “Mind you,” he added, “I suppose it’s different when you’re dealing with wizards.”

  He hoisted his roffle pack on to his back and made towards the house.

  “All that fuss about a beetle,” he said.

  The memmont trotted after him. A breeze ruffled its fur and Tadpole had to turn his head to one side to avoid a swirl of dust. They were at the corner of the house now. He looked up.

  “Look,” he said. “Black clouds. I’d forgotten about them.” He stopped and stared. “It might rain. Think of that. Rain.”

  “That’s an old memmont,” said Flaxfold, making Tadpole jump. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.�
��

  The memmont left Tadpole’s side and rubbed against Flaxfold. She scratched its ears. “Rain is nothing new to this one,” she said.

  “No. But it is to me. Is it really going to rain?”

  “Heavily. Come on in. We need to talk.”

  There was none of the companionable ease in the room now. No food. No chatter. Everyone was waiting for Flaxfold.

  “Sit down,” said Sam. “Tell us about the beetle.”

  Tadpole settled himself on to his pack.

  “Are wizards better or worse than other people Up Top?” he asked.

  “None of your roffle riddles here,” said Axestone. “Answer the question.”

  “It’s not a riddle. It’s a proper question,” said Tadpole. “Is a wizard worth a whisker or does a wizard want a wallop? That’s a roffle riddle.”

  It was the sort of cheek that would have got him into trouble at home, and he tensed himself for an angry outburst, perhaps even a bit of painful magic. Axestone looked ready to give him some when Eloise laughed.

  “Good for you,” she said. “Stand up to him.”

  Tadpole saw the others smile as well, even Tamrin.

  “Because,” he said, “all the guides about Up Top say how welcoming everyone is. Do you know that?”

  “We gave you a meal,” said Axestone. “A nice trout.”

  “Better a dish of cabbage with friends than a fat trout without a welcome,” said Tadpole. “And that’s not a riddle, either.”

  Flaxfold looked at the others. Sam had the grace to look embarrassed. Tamrin glared. Axestone shrugged his big shoulders. Waterburn put his hand to his mouth and coughed gently.

  “I think Tadpole’s right,” he said. “And I apologize.”

  “No,” said Tadpole. “Not you. You’ve been kind to me.”

  Flaxfold touched the roffle’s arm.

  “Patience,” she said. “Up Top, it’s the ones who don’t need to apologize who are first to do so.”

  “That’s stupid,” said Tadpole.

  “It is. But it’s the way things are. And sometimes we just have to accept that.”

  “I don’t want anyone to apologize. I just want them to be kind to me. That’s all.”

  “And we shall,” she said. “All of us. In our different ways. Won’t we?”

  Some of them nodded. Eloise, most of all, smiled. No one disagreed.

  “What we’d like, please,” said Flaxfold, “is for you to tell us exactly what happened with the beetle.”

  “I don’t understand. Why? What’s special about a beetle?”

  Sam joined in. “There’s such a lot you don’t know. You’ll just have to pick most of it up as you go along. But take it from me, beetles are a bad sign. All right?”

  Tadpole thought about this.

  “All right,” he agreed. “Tell me the three most important things I have to know.” Sam started to speak, and Tadpole interrupted him. “I know about the kravvins,” he said. “Three other things.”

  Axestone stood up and stamped his feet. Tadpole thought he was angry at first, then he saw he was laughing.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “Not at you, young roffle. Not at you.”

  Tadpole looked at Flaxfold for help.

  “Stop it, now,” she said.

  Axestone sat down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to have a roffle around. Especially a clever young one.”

  “Carry on, Sam,” said Flaxfold.

  “First, then,” said Sam, “is the enemy. Ash. Ash wants to kill us. And she’s getting stronger. So far, we’ve been defending ourselves. That’s not working any more. We have to attack.”

  Tadpole nodded. His father had told him Ash was the cause.

  “Second,” said Sam, “there’s the mirror. And third is the beetles. The mirror is—”

  “Just a minute,” said Tadpole.

  Sam scowled at him. “Don’t interrupt. The mirror—”

  “No. You can’t decide the three most important things. I have a say, too. And I want to know about you and her.”

  He pointed at Tamrin, who scowled back at him.

  “No,” said Sam.

  “Yes.”

  It was Flaxfold, as usual, who intervened to calm things down.

  “Why are you asking?” she said.

  Tadpole was shaking. He couldn’t decide whether it was fear, or anger.

  “At the river,” he said, “they were talking to me. And I couldn’t tell which was which. The voices came from both of them at the same time. And it wasn’t like proper talking. It was like…” He hesitated, looking for the right way to say it, looking for a way to understand it. “It was more like thinking. More like the things I say to myself when I’m trying to work something out. It was—”

  Flaxfold held up her hand for him to stop.

  “It was like—” he said.

  “Very good,” said Eloise. “I’ve watched them. It’s just like that.”

  “It’s nothing to do with him,” said Tamrin.

  Tadpole saw that she was blushing. He felt ashamed. He still wanted to know, but he felt he had done something wrong, gone where he shouldn’t go.

  There was a long silence. Tamrin held his gaze for a while, then she looked away. Sam watched her.

  Tadpole looked from Sam to Tamrin and back again. Tamrin’s eyes were fixed on some object in the corner of the room. She was shutting out everyone.

  “I’m sorry,” said Tadpole. “I wish I hadn’t asked. Please, forget it. Tell me about the mirror instead.”

  Sam laughed. Eloise looked as though she might cry. Flaxfold put her hand on Sam’s shoulder. Waterburn looked at Tamrin. Axestone folded his arms and waited.

  “I wish people would stop laughing,” said Tadpole. “Is that what you do Up Top? Is everything a joke?”

  Eloise was the first to answer.

  “We’re all very old friends, here,” she said. “We’re comfortable together. And now, you’re here. And you’re a stranger. I want to make you welcome. But you unsettle us. You make us shy. We’re a little embarrassed. And so we laugh.”

  Tadpole smiled.

  “We do that, too,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “And we’ve embarrassed you, as well,” she said. “So I’m sorry, too.”

  No one else joined in, and the silence folded round them again.

  Tamrin’s voice was very small when she finally broke the silence.

  “Tell him about the mirror,” she said.

  She kept her eyes averted.

  Sam didn’t answer.

  “The mirror made the magic,” said Tadpole. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Well,” said Sam, “if you know that…”

  “That’s all I know. Smokesmith. The first mirror. The first magic. That’s all. Please, tell me the whole story.”

  Flaxfold spoke softly. “He can’t do that,” she said. “I’ll tell you one thing. See if Sam tells you another. The mirror that made the magic is in this house.”

  Tadpole felt as though he had been lifted from the floor and was floating.

  Sam said nothing. It was Tamrin who spoke.

  “The mirror made me,” she said. “And Sam. The mirror made both of us. Except there’s not both of us. There’s only one of us. Do you understand now?”

  Tadpole nodded. He didn’t understand at all. He had had enough now. It was all so different. Different from the Deep World. Different from how he had imagined Up Top.

  “I’m going home now,” he said.

  “You can’t,” said Sam.

  Tadpole stood up and hoisted his roffle pack on to his back.

  “You can’t stop me,” he said.

  “I can,” said Sam. “If I want to. I really can. But you’re not going back. You know things you can’t take home with you. Not yet.”

  Tamrin moved to stand next to him.

  “You came to fight Ash,” she said. “You’ll have to stay now.”

  Then both
voices merged.

  “There’s always a roffle.”

  “And this time, you’re the roffle.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  Tadpole stepped back, raising his hands.

  “I do have a choice. And I’m going home.”

  His sleeve fell back from his wrist and a beetle dropped to the floor.

  There was a quick movement of chairs and feet. They all stood and prepared themselves.

  “What?” said Tadpole. He let his hand fall. Another beetle dropped from the other sleeve. And another. Seven. Eleven. Seventeen. They were pouring from him.

  “It’s Ash,” said Sam. “She’s attacking.”

  Tadpole was covered with beetles. They washed over him and streamed down to the floor.

  “They’re killing Tadpole,” said Tamrin.

  Tadpole discovered what the power of magic

  could feel like.

  The crawling beetles made him feel sick. He fell, squashing the ones beneath him. They burst, covering him with a wet stink.

  He rolled away from them, only to squash more. They bit and scratched and he had the sensation that they were burrowing into him, under the skin.

  He opened his mouth to scream and they poured in. He spat, writhed and choked. They were in his hair, his clothes, even in his shoes.

  Something slapped his face.

  “Open your eyes!”

  Another slap. Harder.

  “Open them!”

  Terrified that beetles would swarm in and burrow into his eyes, Tadpole squinted. Tamrin was standing over him. She slapped him again.

  “Look at me!”

  He opened them wider. She slapped him again, harder than ever.

  “Keep your eyes open!”

  Tadpole hated her. He kicked out. His foot smashed into her ankle and she staggered.

  “Don’t be stupid. Look at me. Do it.”

  He looked and she slapped him again.

  There were no beetles on his face now. None in his hair.

  “Give me your hands.”

  She grabbed them, lifted him to his feet and he kept rising, floating above the ground again. She shook him. A flash of pain tore right through his body. The beetles dropped to the floor and exploded. Tamrin let go of him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He coughed. A beetle fell out of his mouth and burst in mid-air.