Fireborn

by Toby Forward

  “It was real enough to burn,” said Cabbage. His plate was empty now. “But not real enough to burn me.”

  Perry stood up with excitement.

  “That’s just what they’re talking about downstairs,” he said. “Why you didn’t burn in the field in the afternoon, or in the garden last night. Everyone else gets burned right enough.”

  “We’d better go and talk to them then,” said Cabbage. He picked up his plate and headed for the door. “Was there any more bacon?”

  There was more bacon, but Flaxfold wouldn’t let him have any.

  “You can have more toast when we’ve finished talking,” she said. “And an apple.”

  Cabbage was trying to escape from Vella who had run across and hugged him as soon as he came into the room.

  “Can I have the apple now and the toast later?”

  “Give the boy an apple,” said Flaxfield. “Otherwise we’ll get no sense out of him.”

  It was the same group as last night, with the addition of Bee’s parents. Again, Cabbage found himself drawn to Cartford, Dorwin’s father. The big man’s silence carried a power and influence over the group more than words. Cabbage felt that Cartford was making judgements and decisions of his own that had nothing to do with what others were thinking or planning.

  “No one’s working,” said Flaxfield.

  Cabbage listened. This was for him. He needed to catch up on their talk.

  “The wild magic is everywhere now. A small spark from a scythe on a flint could fire a whole field. Cooking ranges are just about all right. Open fires leap out of control.

  “It’s Bee,” said Leathort.

  “We think it’s Bee,” Flaxfold corrected him. “That’s what brought these two here. The wild magic is very bad in their house. Worse than in the areas around. They decided that Bee was asking them for help so they set off. They knew that Slowin lived somewhere in this direction. That’s how I found them.”

  “How?” asked Cabbage.

  Flaxfold took a deep breath. “I was on my way to Slowin’s. I thought he might be able to help with the wild magic. He’s a fire wizard.”

  Rotack almost shouted at her in his sudden anger.

  “Don’t tell us lies,” he said. “You weren’t going to him for help. You were going to see if he was causing it. He is causing it. You know he is.”

  Flaxfield drummed his fingers on the table. Flaxfold answered before the wizard could say something too harsh.

  “We don’t know anything,” she said. “But, in a way, you’re right. I was afraid that Slowin might have been making trouble.”

  Flaxfold quickly told Perry and Cabbage about Slowin. About his age and his weakness. She told the boys that she had almost forgotten about him, and that when she did think of him it was to wonder when he was going to die.

  “When I got near to his yard, about ten miles off, I began to hear stories from the people round about who were using him again for magic. I was surprised.”

  Flaxfold hesitated here and Cabbage knew that there were things she had discovered that she did not want to say now, not to these people. He knew better than to ask.

  “We’re going to see him,” said Flaxfield. “Today.”

  “It isn’t a job for boys,” said Dorwin.

  “I’m going,” said Cabbage.

  “So am I,” said Perry.

  “You’ll do as you’re told,” said Flaxfield.

  “You’ll get eaten by the fire,” said Cabbage.

  This was the signal for a quarrel to break out. Dorwin’s voice was lighter than the men’s so Cabbage heard most of what she said. Leathort spoke a lot. Rotack’s contributions were short, frequent and ignored. As the voices grew louder the tempers grew shorter.

  “Whatever you say,” said Dorwin, her voice clearing the others’, “it isn’t a job for boys. Flaxfield, you’ve a responsibility for Cabbage. You can’t allow him to go into danger.”

  This brought a silence, broken by Cartford’s first comment.

  “It’s a job for anyone who can do it,” he said. “Let them all go and see who can work. Let Flaxfield try first, and if he does it, well and good. If not, then…” he shrugged his huge shoulders. “Then someone else will have to.”

  “Whatever else happens,” said Flaxfield, “we have to do it now. Today. Before she signs her indenture. After that it will be too late.”

  Dorwin grabbed his wrist.

  “You don’t know that,” she said. “You don’t know that this is anything to do with Slowin, or Bee. You’re just guessing.”

  He laid a brown hand on hers.

  “Look at these people.” He gestured to Pellion and Vella. “Are they here by accident? Is that how the world works? Is that how magic draws its line?” he leaned his head towards her. Their faces almost touched. “You know it’s about Bee. You know it’s about Slowin. Watch.”

  He leaned back and took a sheet of paper from the table by the window. Taking a pen he dipped it into the ink and wrote:

  Slowin

  Underneath he wrote:

  Bee

  He leaned back. Nothing happened. He frowned.

  “That’s not right,” he said.

  “See?” Dorwin squeezed his wrist. “It’s not about them. Leave the boys here with me. Go and look for what’s causing this. But go alone.”

  Although Cabbage hated to see Flaxfield wrong a small part of him was relieved that he did not have to go and deal with whatever was wrong. He loved the inn. He liked the idea of staying a while and being looked after by Flaxfold and Dorwin.

  “All right,” Flaxfield agreed.

  Vella picked up the pen. She altered the last E of Bee to an A and wrote:

  Beatrice

  “It’s her name,” she said.

  The letters smoked and smouldered. The paper kindled and flared. A small black beetle climbed out of the inkpot and toppled onto the table. Cartford lifted the inkpot, then hammered it down, crushing the beetle.

  Dawn comes early at harvest time, so noon was still far off when they left the inn. Flaxfield rode alone. Dorwin took Perry on her horse. Leathort took Cabbage on his.

  “We’ll never make it in time on foot,” said Flaxfield.

  “Bring those horses back safe,” Flaxfold warned him.

  “What about us?” said Perry.

  She patted his leg and waved them goodbye.

  Cabbage didn’t like being on the horse. It looked good when you saw a rider. It wasn’t so good doing it. It jolted. It hurt his legs. Looking down made him dizzy. When he looked across at Perry the roffle seemed to be enjoying it, so Cabbage tried to look more cheerful. Leathort’s strong arm around his waist made him feel safe enough, but it wasn’t as nice as Dorwin’s looked around Perry.

  On the other hand you could see so much more from up here. Clear of the hedgerows Cabbage could see a pattern of neglect and damage. As the miles gathered behind them, fields which should have been harvested stood ungarnered and choked with weeds. Fields where the reapers had started were scorched and black.

  They rested and watered the horses by a stream. The sun was still just below the noontime high.

  “We can’t stay long,” said Flaxfield. “We’ll be too late.”

  “What if she’s signed already?” asked Cabbage.

  “If we’re right,” said Flaxfield. “We’ll know when she signs.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. But the wild magic is growing worse. It’s preparing for something. When it happens, we’ll know.”

  They remounted and pressed on.

  It was the horses who first let them know that they were getting close.

  Dorwin’s horse stopped so suddenly that he nearly threw her and Perry. She urged him on. He turned his head and scraped his hoof on the ground.

  Flaxfield’s was next. Leathort was barely twenty yards ahead when his horse refused.

  “We’re on foot from here,” said Dorwin.

  They tethered the horses and trudged on. T
he sun was nearing the hottest part of the day and they were crossing open country with no shade.

  Leathort was the first to stumble. He fell awkwardly on his shoulder and cried out. Perry was nearest and he stooped to help him. The roffle drew back with a frightened look.

  “What is it?” said Cabbage.

  Smoke curled out from Leathort’s mouth and he was bleeding from his ears.

  “Drag him back,” called Flaxfield.

  They pulled him back towards the horses.

  “Look after him,” said Flaxfield. He strode on. Cabbage and Perry trotted after him. Dorwin held Leathort’s head in her lap.

  “Get back,” Flaxfield ordered the boys. “Stay with the others.”

  For a moment Cabbage did as he was told, then he trotted on again. He had almost caught up with Flaxfield when the wizard stumbled. Perry stayed still, torn between wanting to do as he was told and wanting to be with Cabbage. Flaxfield straightened himself and carried on. Only a few paces more and he staggered, put his hand to his head and groaned. He stood upright, moved forward again and stopped. His face was twisted with effort. Cabbage ran up to him.

  “Are you all right?”

  Flaxfield turned his gaze on the boy but Cabbage could see that he didn’t recognize him.

  “Perry. Give me a hand,” he called.

  The roffle came up and together they moved Flaxfield back a little and let him sit down. Cabbage wanted to cry when he saw his master so helpless.

  “Is he all right?” called Dorwin.

  Leathort was trying to sit up.

  “I think so,” Cabbage called back. “There’s no blood or smoke.”

  Cabbage’s voice roused Flaxfield. He climbed to unsteady feet.

  “Where’s he going?”

  Flaxfield pointed to Perry, who was walking on, beyond where Flaxfield had fallen.

  “Stop,” called Cabbage.

  The roffle stopped and turned.

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  “It’s dangerous,” called Dorwin. “Come back.”

  “Try it,” said Perry, beckoning to Cabbage.

  Cabbage followed. He passed the point where Flaxfield had failed. He joined Perry. Together they walked on.

  “Stop.”

  Dorwin ran after them, tripped, fell and rolled back, as though punched.

  The boys walked towards them.

  “It’s just here,” said Perry, pointing to the ground.

  “That’s it,” said Flaxfield. “We’re going back. Come on.”

  “No,” said Cabbage.

  “Don’t you cheek me,” said Flaxfield. “Come here, now.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cabbage. “Cartford said, it’s a job for anyone who can do it, didn’t he?”

  No one answered him.

  “You can’t do it,” said Cabbage. “So we have to. Sorry. Go back. Wait for us at the inn.”

  They turned and walked away, ignoring the calls to come back. Flaxfield tried to follow them but he was sent reeling back again. There was nothing for it but to return to the horses and wait, and watch.

  The boys didn’t look back.

  “Are you scared?” said Perry.

  “No,” said Cabbage.

  “I am.”

  They walked on. The air was busy with magic. Sometimes Cabbage felt that hands were running over his face, like a blind man, searching. Other times it was like hail in driving wind, lashing his face to drive him back. Sometimes it was a stillness worse than resistance. He could tell that Perry felt it, but only in a weaker way.

  “A little bit,” he said at last.

  “What?” asked Perry.

  “I’m a little bit afraid.”

  “Which way are we going?”

  “Just follow the magic.” |

  Bee followed the path

  from her tower to Slowin’s. It was after lunch but she hadn’t eaten. She couldn’t eat.

  She didn’t knock. She walked in. Slowin was waiting at his desk.

  “Sit down,” he said, not looking up at her.

  “I don’t think I want to be your apprentice,” said Bee.

  “I told you to sit down. I’ve got the papers ready.”

  “I want to go back home.”

  Slowin scraped his chair closer in, pressing his body against the smooth desktop.

  “You’d better sit next to me so I can explain as we go along,” he said.

  Bee felt her eyes fill with tears.

  “I said I don’t want to be your apprentice,” she said.

  “I heard you. Now sit down and we’ll sign these papers.”

  “You’re not listening to me. I want to go home.”

  Slowin pushed the other chair towards her and she sat down. As soon as she had she wished she hadn’t but it seemed stupid to stand up again so she stayed there.

  “This is the only home you have,” he said. “Now, let’s get on.”

  Brassbuck appeared in the doorway. She leaned against it, watching.

  “I’m not going to sign anything,” said Bee. “You can’t make me.”

  “I’ll take her home,” offered Brassbuck.

  Slowin pushed his chair away. It scraped on the stone floor, crushing beetles.

  “All right,” he said. “Take her.”

  Bee blinked in surprise.

  “You mean it?”

  “Of course.”

  She stood up.

  “Thank you.”

  “Pack your things,” said Slowin, “don’t bother coming back to say goodbye.”

  Bee felt she should do something, shake Slowin’s hand, or something. He picked up a document and studied it, ignoring her.

  “How long will it take to get there?” she asked.

  No one answered.

  “Is it far?”

  “Don’t you remember?” asked Brassbuck.

  “No. I was very little.”

  “Well I don’t,” she said. “I’ve never been there.” Her leather jerkin creaked. She shifted from one foot to the other, still leaning.

  Bee wanted to cry again.

  “Where is it?” she asked Slowin.

  “What’s that?” He looked up. “Are you still here?”

  Bee wanted to punch him in the face.

  “Where’s my home?” she said.

  “Here, of course.”

  “No. My real home. Where my parents are?”

  “That’s gone,” he said. “They’ve gone. They’re not there any more. Didn’t you know?”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Slowin smiled. His face shone. Really shone. It hurt Bee’s eyes to look at him. He was full of magic. Not his own. Magic from outside him. It was filling him, spilling out of him.

  “Things change,” he said. “Nothing stays the same. They’ve forgotten you.”

  “They wouldn’t.”

  “They did. I told them they could come here every year on your birthday, to see you. They never came.”

  Bee went over and leaned into him. She shouted into his face.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Why don’t you sit down,” he said. “Don’t get upset.”

  He helped her into her chair. She was shaking.

  “Now. This is your home. Let’s settle things properly. Here. Blow your nose. That’s better.”

  Bee put her hand to her head to feel where the pain was.

  “We’ll sort this out then you can go and have a lie down. You’ll feel better then.”

  The papers were in front of her. He put the pen into her hand.

  “There. I’ll just help you to start.”

  He dipped it into the ink.

  “If you’ll just write your name here. Beatrice. Remember that’s your long name, not just Bee?”

  He indicated the place with his forefinger.

  “Good, and now, underneath, you’ll write your own special name, your magic name. It’s – Ember.”

  His voice was unsteady as he said this. His hand trembled.
<
br />   “That doesn’t sound right,” said Bee.

  He laughed.

  “That’s what I said, all those years ago, when my master told me what my name was. See how alike we are?”

  He put his hand on hers as though he was going to move the pen and sign her name himself.

  “Write it,” he said.

  “It really doesn’t sound right.”

  Slowin grew hot. His hand was burning her.

  “See? You’re making the magic angry by arguing. This is a great moment in your life and you’re spoiling it. Write. Before it all goes wrong. Quickly.”

  Bee wrote the word.

  Overhead and distant, a crash of thunder. Slowin’s hand cooled. His face dimmed.

  “Good,” he whispered. “Now, I sign here, as your master.” He grabbed the pen and scribbled – Slowin – very fast. He breathed deeply, steadied himself, then, slowly and deliberately wrote underneath it, Bee’s name in magic.

  Slowin burst into flame. Brassbuck threw herself at him and covered him, trying to put out the fire. Bee was hurled back in her chair and sent spinning across the room.

  The tower split from side to side and fell open to the sky, black as night. |

  The magic led them straight to the hillside

  where Bee had met Mattie. The Palace of Boolat, high on its eminence, had been in view for miles. The yard revealed itself all at once when they were almost on top of it.

  “That’s it,” said Cabbage.

  “How do you know?”

  “Can’t you see?”

  Perry had been itching and sore ever since they had left Flaxfield and the others. His skin was tender, as though he had fallen into a bed of nettles. But he couldn’t see the wild magic.

  Cabbage had suffered more, felt more pain, inside his head as well as on his body. More than that, he could see it arcing across the landscape, lighting trees like torches. Perry only saw the wall and the towers of Slowin’s Yard. Cabbage saw a boiling vat of magic. Walking into that would be like walking into hot oil. He felt he’d sizzle like bacon frying on the range.

  “Do you think we’re in time?” asked Perry.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  As he said it, the sky cracked. A clap of thunder sent them reeling back, their hands over their ears.

  Perry doubled over in pain. Cabbage withstood it better, staying upright, but white as wishes. Perry half stood and then fell properly, lying on his side.