The Firebrand Legacy

by T. K. Kiser

  Carine followed. “Don’t do this,” she whispered.

  He ignored her, peeking over the bush to check for Heartless Ones.

  “The cape isn’t fireproof,” she said.

  His face snapped in her direction. “What?” David looked her over. “No, you’re trying to scare me off.”

  “I’m telling the truth!” She grabbed his forearm. “Please, David. I only told you that it was fireproof so that you’d give the gullon blood to me.”

  “Why?”

  “So that…so that you wouldn’t try to heal Kavariel. You’ll get killed out there, David.”

  “You are a terrible person,” David said, glaring at her under his bushy eyebrows. He stood and bolted to the next leafless bush, a web of interwoven twigs.

  She ran after him. “No, I’m your friend.”

  He twirled, standing where anyone could see them. “How can I be friends with you, huh?”

  “I’ll tell you the truth,” she said, pulling him down behind the partial shelter. “I’ll tell you everything. Let’s just get away from here, okay? Before we both get killed.”

  “No. It’s now or never, Carine.”

  “Where do I start? Okay, the cloak isn’t fireproof. That’s for sure. It’s just a normal cloth that will burn to ash if you—”

  “What else?”

  “Don’t do this, because you and Giles are my friends, and I don’t have many of those.”

  “As my friend,” David said, eyes softening, “you should understand why I have to do this. Do you?” The dragon roared, shrieking loud and high in the water. Steam plumed up as the attack raged on. Tears sparkled in David’s eyes.

  Carine threw her head back. “I don’t want you to die.”

  He forced a smile. “Me neither.” It was nice to see his smile after bearing the brunt of his anger for so long. “Believe me, if there was any other way to do this, I would.”

  A burst of heat blasted through the bush. Carine shuddered, and with fingers shaking, she fished through her pocket for the drawstring bag.

  “What are you doing?” David said.

  She found the protection stone—careful not to touch the words—and held it in her palm. “There’s something else I haven’t quite been honest about…”

  “Firebrand’s heir is your dad? And you only just found out about it?”

  “Shh!”

  “He killed Limly—and almost killed me!”

  “I know, but it’s not totally his fault, you know,” she said. “You heard Ansa: mispronunciation becomes addictive once you have the dragon blood in your system. It wasn’t the best way to go about it, but Didda lied and did everything else to protect me.”

  David snorted. “Like you lied and stole to protect me.”

  The comparison hit like a punch in the gut. “That was not the best way for me to go about it, either.” She scanned the trees for Didda, feeling that she’d lost track of him for too long, feeling vulnerable. “Let’s move.”

  Carine led David to another bush, closer to the Heartless Ones. Those that mumbled approached the dragon, stepping past Heartless Ones’ bodies that lay burned or extinguished in the field.

  David thought a moment. “Wait. If your father got the dragon blood from his father that means you must have it too.”

  “I think it does,” she whispered, wishing she had thought to pick up the torch when she passed Giles.

  “Well, don’t use it! Don’t mispronounce.”

  “I won’t. And this is my secret. You can’t tell anyone.” She leveled David with her stare.

  “I won’t.”

  “What this means is that maybe…” She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to make this terrifying thought a reality. She didn’t want to do more than the feat of capturing that needed flame. But long term, Navafort needed her to. David needed her to. “Maybe I can heal the dragon.”

  “Not a chance. You’ll mispronounce. Don’t be like Luzhiv for a second.”

  The dragon opened his mouth toward the sky, rearing in pain. Long, sharp teeth lined his mouth.

  “I won’t mispronounce. I’m going to use the protection stone, the way my granddad did with the leaf that said order on it. Look, I’m offering to heal the dragon for you. It’s not like I want to do this.”

  “I go either way.” David pulled the gullon blood from her.

  “Are you kidding? I’m not even sure if it’ll work. If you go, then both of us could end up dead.”

  “So be it. I have the gullon blood, and I won’t give it up.”

  “You are…you are an idiot, David.”

  He snorted. “How sweet: if we die, those will be the last words I ever hear.”

  48 Go and Stop

  “Follow my lead.”

  Carine stood, exposing her location to any Heartless Ones, to Didda, and to the dragon. She had previously thought that she understood the enormous scale of the beast. But its head, which rested on the charred earth, was taller than twice her height. Its eye was as wide as her torso. Kavariel was so warm that steam rose from the healing pool.

  “Is there a plan?” David asked.

  Carine had thought that Selius was the epitome of heartlessness. But the men, fauns, centaurs, and other creatures stared blankly, terribly at their foe.

  “Don’t stop running,” she said and bolted into the open field. David ran after her.

  A Heartless One took notice.

  The second Carine grabbed David’s arm, her fingers had already wrapped around the Manakor word of protection. What felt like steam swelled up inside her searing heart and organs. Carine crumpled to the ground, not releasing David’s arm.

  The Heartless One, a faun with a gray smock and red ribbons, muttered something. Pebbles and

  dirt swirled from under their feet, but it did not pellet them as the Heartless One intended for it to do. The particles ebbed out and in, as though attempting to break through, but any time something hit their skin or clothes, it dissolved from existence as if it had never been.

  Kneeling, Carine saw David’s eyes filled with wonder as he watched the swirling earth. Suddenly, the pebbles fell. The Heartless One seemed to have given up on them and turned instead to the dragon.

  Carine dropped the wishstone from her grasp.

  “Carine, are you okay? That was…amazing.”

  She coughed, clutching her heart. “I can’t do that again,” she said, feeling tears in her eyes. She coughed again, sputtering.

  “Yes, you have to.”

  “It hurts…like… dying.” The words came out in gasps.

  David pulled her to her feet. “We’re so close, just one more time”

  The dragon spewed a stream of bright orange fire.

  Carine screamed. “Of course I can see that we’re close!”

  David paused, and then put his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for protecting me from the Heartless Ones. You’ve done a great thing for Navafort. I’ll see you on the other side.” With that, he kissed her cheek and started pulling away.

  But Carine had his wrist. “Oh no you don’t,” she said with what little breath she had. “We’re in this together.”

  She inhaled, focusing again on the dragon, not

  ready to run this time but ready to walk toward his fiery mouth.

  “Stop!” The wind and motion nearly muffled Didda’s command. “Do not approach that dragon.”

  49 Can’t and Must

  David swirled around to see who had spoken. “It’s the heir of Firebrand, your dad.”

  She yanked his arm. “Come on.”

  Across the dragon, Giles raised the torch to a tree. The top of the torch blazed as it caught. This was what they had come here for. No matter what happened to Carine and David, Navafort would get that flame and have one year of peace, one year to protect itself from the Heartless Ones with Kavariel dead.

  The dragon rolled his head, as if seeing Carine and David approach. Carine gripped David’s hand tighter and nearly stepped back. Had Kava
riel seen Louise before she’d died? Had Louise seen his big, wise eye?

  “Stop, Carine! Please!” Didda begged.

  She didn’t, and a moment later, the bare earth bubbled at her feet. Carine fell inches into liquefied earth.

  David struggled to move. “I’m stuck.”

  The ground hardened around their calves. They bent over, digging with their nails. Didda came up behind them, muttering Manakor.

  “Stop it,” Carine cried. “Let me do this, Didda. We have to!”

  Didda shook his head. “I can’t stop speaking the language. I told you that. I also told you that we were going home.” He whispered a word, and the surcoat of David’s collar tightened around his throat. David’s hands flew to his neck as the fabric and chainmail twisted.

  “Let him go,” Carine said.

  “You leave me no choice, Carine. If he’s the reason you’re getting this close to the dragon”—they ducked as a burst of heat exploded behind them—“then you’d better rethink your priorities.”

  “This isn’t you, Didda.” She scratched at the ground. The dirt, like dust, gave way to her clawing, just enough to release one leg. She started with the other.

  David pulled at his collar. The vial and the bow had fallen beside him.

  Didda’s graying hair was wild in the wind. He had dirt and ash on his cloak, the cloak that Mom and she had mended so many times. His worn face carried a grief that Carine had only glimpsed in the years following the death of Louise. His eyes sparkled sadly. “Come home.”

  He stretched out his hand, muttering as the dirt that trapped her other leg moved away and released her. David’s face was turning blue where he stood trapped in the earth.

  Didda moved his fingers, welcoming her to take his hand.

  A hundred feet behind him, Giles circled the field with a flaming torch raised to the heavens. The dragon emitted a fiery breath, and just as Giles passed a Heartless One with the torch, the Heartless One fell over, extinguished. He ran behind Didda as well, but Didda didn’t fall.

  “What are you looking at?” Didda turned, just in time to see confusion sweep across Giles’ face. Giles dropped the torch and barreled forward, sword drawn.

  “No!” Carine shoved Didda out of the way just in time to confuse Giles. He didn’t strike, but Didda did.

  Giles dropped his sword as his collar gripped his neck like a vice.

  David crumpled, choking.

  “You’re killing them!” Carine shouted.

  Didda snapped. “Is that what it will take? This won’t be over until you step away from the dragon.”

  Tears fell from David’s eyes.

  All at once, Carine remembered the wishstone. She dug it from her pocket and squeezed her fingers to the words. This time, she anticipated the pain. It coursed through her body like molten metal. She writhed as David finally gasped for breath. He braced himself on the ground as color returned to his cheeks. Giles coughed too and stood straight, though he didn’t know what had cured him.

  “What are you doing?” Didda said, but Carine couldn’t bring herself to answer. It took all her concentration not to let go.

  Didda muttered something again, to no effect. He darted a furious glance at his daughter and muttered again.

  “Whatever you’re doing isn’t working,” Giles spat. His helmet shone in the sunlight. His surcoat fell smooth over his chainmail, and his steady, thin lips conveyed the gravity of his determination. He raised his long sword of shimmering metal, and speared Didda’s side, the blade sliding into Didda’s skin.

  Didda doubled over, and Carine released the stone. She hadn’t thought to protect her father too. Carine took a breath and picked the wishstone up again, but her wish didn’t protect him retroactively. Didda clutched the wound.

  Carine stretched out her hand to Giles, who lifted his sword for another strike. “Leave him alone. He won’t hurt us. Get the flame and eliminate the Heartless Ones.”

  Giles clenched his jaw, but looking over her shoulder, he must have seen another Heartless One coming, because he turned and retrieved his torch.

  Didda, weak and suffering, met her eyes. “I did this for you,” he said.

  She swallowed. “Hang in there. We’ll be right back.”

  “Please,” Didda begged, “you’re all we have left.”

  Heart breaking, Carine turned. Didda would live if he could hold on long enough for her to dip him into the healing pool.

  She pulled David’s sleeve. “Come on.”

  50 Like Louise

  Through the steam and the swirling gold that pelted in turns from the air, the dragon seemed largely at rest, motionless to alleviate the pain. The air around him wasn’t only hot, it was damp too, and walking closer felt like entering a sauna.

  David followed Carine with only one shoe. The other hadn’t come out of the ground. Didda screamed her name from where he lay crumpled on the earth, but Carine couldn’t stop now. The earth burst before them. Gold showered their heads like hail. Turning, Carine saw that it was still Didda, using his last ounces of energy to stop them.

  “I’m going to hold onto your arm, okay?” Carine said. “I want to make sure that you get protected too.”

  David nodded, and Carine saw the wonder in his eyes. “It’s incredible.”

  The dragon moved a wrinkling, scaly neck, swinging his terrifying head before them. His nostrils were like caves. Kavariel sniffed, and hot wind stirred their clothes. Carine trembled, her whole body warm and quaking. She clamped down on the wishstone.

  “David,” she said, “get your bow.”

  But David didn’t move. He stood transfixed as Kavariel watched them through the steam. The creature itself was amazing: huge but present, powerful but understanding. The eyes, bulbous and shining blue, searched her as though seeing her soul.

  Carine barely noticed the pain from the stone.

  The dragon opened its mouth. His breath had the scent of a garden, and from his tongue, Carine heard—or felt—what could only be described as music. The wind whistled as the great dragon inhaled. Carine’s clothes and short hair flapped toward him, so she thought for a moment they both might be swept into his mouth by the wind.

  It stopped. For a moment, all was still.

  Like a long sigh, the dragon breathed. Fire danced on his breath. Unlike the jet stream that had engulfed the Heartless Ones, this fire emerged in a gentle wave.

  Carine clenched the protection stone as the orange flames engulfed them.

  It did not sear. It did not burn. The wish protected them, so the fire danced over Carine’s arms like warm water. It tickled her face and filled her nose like fresh air. What felt like music also swept over her like a choir. She had never experienced anything so beautiful.

  Sweat dripped from her forehead as David fell to his knees in reverence. Carine carefully held tight to his arm, aware that letting go or dropping the wishstone would mean their instant deaths. The fire of the power burned within, but the magnificence of the beast made every moment worth it.

  A voice emerged within the harmony. It spoke in Manakor, stirring her soul. She did not understand the sounds, but she understood one word: Karin. It was her name. Nothing had ever sounded so familiar or so pure.

  Carine shook as she held tight, and from his knees, David lifted the vial. For good reason, he no longer felt the need to shoot the gullon blood into the dragon’s mouth. He uncurled his fingers, and the vial, as if called by the dragon, floated against the current of the brilliant fire into the dragon’s mouth.

  Carine struggled to keep her eyes open. They felt dry and clean at once, and as comfortable as Carine would be in closing them, she couldn’t bring herself to will it. The bright light embraced her. Carine wished, in that sweet moment, that this embrace, not burning, had been the experience of her sister’s last moments.

  Karin, said the voice through the song. Carine realized at once that her name was not merely one word of the melody. It was instead the song itself. Every other sound only p
robed deeper into that word. She fell to her knees too.

  No one would ever know this sublime joy.

  The pain of the wishstone burst within her. She braced her body, telling it to be patient, but the fire burned too strong within. She dared not let the wishstone go, because all she wanted was more of this beauty—more, more, more—forever.

  The brilliant light and waves folded away, leaving Carine and David kneeling alone on the scorched ground.

  Outside the fire, the air was bare and cruel. The heat of the wishstone burned even stronger now, with the fierce contrast of the cold outer world. Carine did not release, wishing that the dragon would turn his head around and breathe on them again.

  The dragon rolled in the healing pool as steam plumed from his scales. With a thrash of his wings, he lifted from the pool. He pushed up with his legs. His whole glorious body was whole again, completely healed. He shrieked in elation, lighting up the sky with a yellow stream of fire.

  Then, just like that, he disappeared into the sky, and that was the last Carine knew.

  51 Healing for Some

  Her body must have understood that she was underwater. She shot up, gasping for air. Her face broke through the surface of the healing pool as she sat in a foot of the most crystal water she had ever seen.

  Giles stood at the water’s edge, holding a lit torch. David was calf-deep in the pool, hands on her shoulders.

  “Thank the flames,” he said. “You made it.” David’s brown eyes sparkled, and she felt that he must still be reeling from what they had experienced amidst the flame. Giles looked satisfied too and proud as ever. The torch dazzled in his grip. The light he carried would save Navafort.

  “Excellent work,” Giles said, grinning ever so slightly.

  Carine shot up from the water, wanting desperately to hug them. She pulled them both in her arms. David laughed and hugged back. Giles stood still as a pole, but he did not push them away.

  “When the fire engulfed you,” Giles said, “I thought you both were dead.”

  Carine leaned back and smiled. “So did I.”

  “You almost didn’t make it, Carine,” David told her. “You collapsed right after the dragon flew off. Thank the flames the healing pools were right here, or I don’t know what we would’ve done. Come on.”