Fireborn (The Dark Dragon Chronicles Book 2)

by Ripley Harper

  translated from the original French by Genevieve Bernard (2006)

  Ingrid is on fire.

  But it is not her flesh that burns away. It is the mask she wears, the false façade of an old, flamboyant eccentric who is easily irritated and not easily amused. She stands in front of me now, stripped of all pretense, dazzling.

  I smile at her beauty.

  Her magic is a great fire of pure white flame that surrounds her physical body, strong and rich and magnificent, pulsing about her as if alive. She is formidable.

  My keeper.

  I look at her, and I remember.

  Ah, yes.

  I flex my fingers, stretch my arms, my back, my legs. I test out the strong, young body I’m in, pleased to feel this vessel so little damaged. Then I take a moment to enjoy the coolness of the tiles beneath my feet and to breathe the delicious air of this world, which is now mine.

  It is good to be back.

  I get up from the floor. I look around me. I am in a modest dwelling, a place I have not dwelled in before. It is a lowly and humble abode, not truly fit for one such as me.

  But I will overlook the insult, for now.

  I turn to my keeper again, pleased that this one is still in my service. But when I look at her closely, peering through the outer white flames of her magic to the inner fire of her human spirit, my pleasure dissipates.

  Something terrible has happened to this one: the rich, brilliant red flames of her spiritfire have been stained by shadows of the darkest, murkiest black.

  She is not truly fit for my service any longer.

  “Why did you allow evil to stain your soul?” I ask her, deeply disappointed by what I see before me. “You, whose spiritfire always flamed with such joyous, bright red energy?”

  She takes a step back, her eyes rounding in surprise. “Jess? Is that you?”

  Her question perplexes me. “You know who I am, keeper, as I know who you are. Answer my question!”

  She pales slightly. “What evil do you see when you look at me?”

  “Do you truly need to ask? Your natural vibrant red spiritfire, the color that marks all people of passion and conviction, has become stained by the murky black shadows of evil. Surely you cannot be unaware of this great change?”

  At my words, her face crumples into a net of deep, tragic lines, and I know at once that I am witnessing a secret expression, one far removed from the public face she wears.

  “The murkiness you see is not the black stain of evil,” she tells me. “It is the dark scars of sorrow.”

  Oh.

  Of course.

  Bella.

  I rememb–

  There is a quick burst of energy: a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes and smells as the world tilts on its axis and everything alters.

  Oh my God.

  I’m Jess.

  I’m Jess and the whole world is burning.

  “Ingrid!” I cry. “What’s going on?” I reach out my hand to her. “Why does everything look so different?”

  She steps away determinedly, hands in the air, making it clear that she doesn’t want me to touch her. But her movements are unhurried and her smile is warm and open. Proud.

  “What do you see, little one?”

  “I see you!”

  Behind me, somewhere, I hear Sofia’s voice. “Leave now. While you still can. Go! And you. Find your father and lock him up. Don’t come back until he’s safe.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “You are filled with the shine,” Ingrid says. “It is blazing from your every pore.”

  I realize that I know this. I remember this feeling.

  It is glorious to see the world this way again.

  “You are on fire,” I tell Ingrid.

  “So you said.” She smiles. “What exactly do you see in this fire, little one?”

  I look closer, then bring a hand to my mouth, shocked. “Oh! I never realized you were in so much pain.”

  “If my grief has made me a bad keeper, I can only beg your forgiveness.”

  But her words are drowned out by the song of the world around me. The dust motes floating in a ray of sunshine. The gleaming wooden table that was once a living tree. The silver cutlery made from minerals mined from the depths of the earth by living hands.

  The world sings to me and I stand stunned by its beauty.

  “Jess?”

  I turn around to see that Sofia, too, is on fire, and I gasp in amazement as her mask is burnt away before my eyes.

  Astounding!

  This is no contented mother and wife, no calm and contemplative scholar! This is a grief-stricken avenging angel, obsessed by the need to punish her enemies and revenge the wrongs done to her loved ones.

  I take a step back, astonished to find her so different from what I’d thought her to be. “Why are you filled with so much anger?” I ask. “And why have you hidden your true self from me, who has trusted in your calm and your wisdom?”

  For a moment she looks startled, but then her face lights up with pleasure. The change to her inner fire is immediate: as the grey haze of vengefulness lifts, the true purple hues of her spiritfire begin to blaze forth.

  “I did not mean to deceive you,” she says. “Please forgive me. My fight is not with you or yours, and I did not want to burden you with my anger and my hatred.”

  Her words are spoken without deceit, and I judge her reasoning to be sound. I smile back at her, and in answer her spiritfire flashes into the pure violet flames which characterize all those blessed with inherent wisdom and sensitivity. She is being her best self now. I can trust her.

  “What happened to your magic?” I ask. “Where once a great flame burned, there is now only ashes.”

  “I do not grieve the loss of my magic,” she tells me evenly. “My enemies used my power to scramble my mind, and it was only when I was relieved of my broken magic that I found my human strength again.”

  There is something about her words. A vague sense of remembering. The shadow of an echo, or a dream.

  I resist a sudden, unpleasant feeling of confusion.

  “Where is Gunn?” I ask, looking around.

  “He has walked off into the desert,” Ingrid says, as if this answer should satisfy me.

  “Why? It would have greatly pleased me to look upon his true inner self.”

  “Which is exactly why he had to go. It can be a little… bracing to be seen so clearly, and that idiot boy has hardly recovered from his last bout of shine-sickness.”

  Her words make so much sense that I’m astonished to see that they’re not true. While she speaks there is a thin gray film over her fire; she is holding something back.

  I experience a brief flare of anger—how dare she lie to me?—but then I see, hidden within the vibrant red hues of her spiritfire, a bright flickering of rose-pink flames.

  Ah. So her falsehood is rooted in the pure, unselfish love she feels for her sister’s grandson. How peculiar.

  “Strange,” I say. “I never realized how deeply you loved your grand-nephew.”

  “Are you really looking into our aural fires, little one?” Her spiritfire now burns brightly in flames of deep red with not a trace of black to be seen; she is relaxed and pleased. Proud of me. “Can it be?”

  “Of course I am,” I say, confused by her question. “Why do you doubt this?” Then I frown. “Did Daniel have to leave too?”

  “He’s making sure his father’s safe,” Sofia says. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Safe from what?” I ask.

  It’s Ingrid who answers. “Although Noah has keeper blood, he never pledged himself to a clan, so his magic was never sparked. He will be drawn to you without even realizing it, and once he sees you, it will be over for him.” She shrugs apologetically. “Once shine-struck, people without some magic of their own can’t be cured. He will be your slave for life.”

  I ponder this.

  “In that case, it is wise to keep him from me,” I say. “I am not y
et ready to accept such a sacrifice, worthy as it might be.”

  “Ok-a-a-ay.”

  Daniel’s voice comes from somewhere behind me.

  “So, that’s good to know. When will you be ready? Because that date is definitely going into my calendar.”

  I turn around to find him standing a few steps away, smiling. And oh! With his mask of good-natured ordinariness burnt away, his spirit is revealed as a pure silver fire of endless abundance, exceptionally rich in everything that is good and wise and attractive.

  “Daniel!” I clap my hands together in delight. “You were given everything.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you see?”

  “Yes! The fire of your magic has not been sparked yet, but that will come in time. Your spiritfire, however, is astonishing and rare! You were given much, and you have used it wisely; none of your gifts have been tarnished despite the hardships you have suffered. I am pleased that you will be at my side in the war to come.”

  He gives an uncertain little step backward. “Um… And what war would this be, exactly?”

  His question confuses me.

  I am suddenly aware that I am not quite myself—there are layers to my identity, and these layers are not as smoothly woven together as I might have wished.

  The idea is both frightening and rather… intriguing.

  I look down at my hands, my body. Then I walk to the small mirror that hangs by the back door and stare at my face.

  “Do I seem changed to you in any way?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Maybe just the tiniest bit.”

  “You are referring to the shine?”

  “Yup.”

  “It is not something that is visible to me. To me, I appear as I always have.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  I turn away from the mirror. “Apart from the shine, do I seem in any way changed to you?”

  Another laugh. “You obviously have no real idea what the shine is.”

  “As I have explained, I am unable to perceive it.”

  “Yeah, well. Let’s just say it’s a little difficult to see past it. And with a little difficult, I mean Absolutely. Fucking. Impossible.”

  I find his words faintly distressing. “You have not found a way to protect yourself against my shine?”

  “No, don’t worry, I’m fully protected. Which is why I’m standing here, talking to you like a normal person, and not on my knees, worshipping you like a nutcase.” He raises one shoulder. “But blocking the shine doesn’t mean I can see you clearly right now. Honestly, it’s like looking into the sun: I’m kind of worried I’ll go blind if this conversation continues much longer.”

  “Avert your eyes then,” I command. “I do not want to damage you. As a person, you are of great value to me.”

  He gives me a strange look. “Okay. Seeing that you asked. That was pretty weird.”

  “What?”

  “For one, the thing about going blind was a joke. Not my best work, perhaps, but I find myself in rather challenging circumstances.”

  I nod. “It is true that I find humor difficult to comprehend.”

  “Yeah. Okay. So there’s that. And also you’re sounding pretty bizarre. Like you’ve swallowed a dictionary and English isn’t your first language.”

  “Little one.” Ingrid addresses me before I can ask him what he means. “What do you see when you look at this boy? Will you tell me?”

  When I turn my gaze upon her, I am dismayed to notice that my keeper’s crimson flames are stained by murky brown flickers of distrust.

  “Daniel Rodriguez burns with a bright and pure metallic silver flame,” I tell her. “He is untouched by shadows or darkness, and he radiates nothing but an abundance of generous gifts. Such an uncontaminated and beautiful spiritfire is astoundingly rare. You are foolish not to trust him.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “That’s certainly a glowing recommendation.”

  “I’ll make sure to put it on my resume,” he replies drily.

  I stop listening to them and walk towards the light and the warmth of the desert outside. Oh, how I long for the abundance of magic to be found even in barren places such as these! The beautifully complex and diverse spiritfires of the reptiles and insects and snakes and…

  The moment my bare feet touch the desert sand, I know that something has gone terribly wrong. That something has been taken from me. Then I look up and stifle a cry, stumbling with the shock of what I witness before me.

  As far as the eye can see, death has been visited upon the desert. All that now remain are the blackened ruins of what was once alive and magical.

  “What has happened here?” I demand of my keeper, aghast.

  She frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “This!” I open my arms wide to encompass the devastation that surrounds us. “Who did this? And have they been appropriately punished?”

  She looks from side to side, seemingly confused. “Are you talking about the burnt shrubs?”

  “I’m talking about all of it! All those tiny, magnificent spiritfires so cruelly snuffed out!”

  “You can’t remember?”

  “What’s to remember?”

  My keeper looks at the boy, who raises his hands. There seems to be some kind of problem, which neither knows how to address.

  “Tell me the truth!” I demand. “Who would dare bring such devastation upon something so glorious?”

  “It was you, Jess,” the boy says. “Just a couple of weeks ago. Don’t you remember? You were struggling to control your new firemagic skills, and you couldn’t stop the fire from spreading.”

  He meets my gaze unflinchingly, his inner fire as pure a metallic silver as I’ve ever seen. He is speaking the truth, as far as he understands it.

  “I did this?” I ask my keeper, dumbfounded.

  “You did,” she says, and I notice that although the dark shadows have returned to her spiritfire, there is no gray haze over her words. She is not lying to me.

  I did this.

  And then reality shifts—subtly but completely—and I remember that I am a girl.

  A girl who, less than a fortnight ago, set a bird alight as it flew in the sky, and felt hardly anything.

  Chapter 15

  A more or less superficial layer of the unconscious is undoubtedly personal. I call it the personal unconscious. But this personal unconscious rests upon a deeper layer, which does not derive from personal experience and is not a personal acquisition but is inborn. This deeper layer I call the collective unconscious.

  From The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, by Carl Gustav Jung (1959);

  translated by RFC Hull

  I open my eyes to find Gunn in a chair next to my bed. “Hey, you,” he says. “Welcome back.”

  I struggle upright, wipe the sleep from my eyes. “How long was I out for this time?”

  He glances at his watch. “About seventy-eight hours. Give or take a few minutes. Can you remember what happened?”

  I think about it. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  “You must be starving.” He gets up.

  “No. Sit down. Please. I need to talk to you.”

  He nods and sits down again. The way he’s leaning forward in his chair, with his forearms resting on his thighs, makes his shoulders look broader than ever, and for a brief moment I can’t help wondering how it would feel to rest against those shoulders, even for a little while. I bet it would make me feel snug and warm. Safe.

  I give my head a little shake, irritated with myself. “Did you know that everything alive is burning with a secret flame?” I ask.

  “I’ve heard such theories before, yes. But I never suspected they were true until three days ago.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I’m relieved to find out this isn’t just another secret he’s been keeping from me. “So. Um. Apparently I lit up with the shine again. Did you see it?”

  “Briefly, before I left. But I could feel it in my bones, all the way out into the desert.”

  “A
re you alright?”

  “It didn’t affect me at all.” He gives me his best reassuring smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “You can relax. I won’t get shine-sick again, I promise.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  “It seemed like the right thing to do, at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

  When Gunn focusses all his attention on me like this, it’s difficult to look at him for too long. Invariably my body starts heating up and my heart starts beating faster; it’s embarrassing.

  I look down at my hands. “Why not?”

  “Oh, Jess.” He blows out a breath. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you. I’m supposed to be your keeper—your teacher and your protector—and yet, so far, it feels like you’ve done most of the teaching. And the protecting.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yeah. It is. But I need you to know that I’m doing my best. We’re on this road without a map, and all I can do is try and do the right thing by you.” He sighs. “Sometimes it’s obvious to me what the right thing is, and sometimes it isn’t.”

  “Okay.” My nails, I notice, look a lot better. They’ve grown out and my cuticles have healed. I must’ve stopped biting them without even noticing.

  “When you lit up so unexpectedly, Ingrid and Sofia both felt, very strongly, that I should remove myself from your presence. And I took their advice, even though I’m not sure I have any faith in Ingrid’s judgment anymore.”

  I suddenly remember, with perfect clarity, how Ingrid feels about Gunn.

  “She loves you, you know. Fiercely and unselfishly. I saw it.”

  His eyes widen slightly. “You could actually see that?”

  “Like it was tattooed on her face.”

  “What else did you see?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  I raise a shoulder, not sure where to begin. “Everything is on fire. All the time. Actually, people are burning with two different fires. Like layers, almost. There’s a white outer flame, which is the fire of their magic, and an inner spiritfire, which burns in all kinds of different colors, depending on what the person is like on the inside.”

  “Two fires? Really?” He runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Hmm. If the outer fire represents their magic, my guess would be that it’s unique to keepers. Normal people, I suspect, will only have a spiritfire. We’ll have to test that out sometime.”