‘Just a tiny drop, until you are old enough. This was your mother’s favourite wine, she very nearly married the winemaker at the villa where it is made, you know. Had it not been for your father we may have all been living there still.’
‘But then I wouldn’t be here?’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ considered Brian as he held up his glass. ‘Salute.’
‘Buon Natale,’ Ilaria said as they chinked their glasses together. ‘I wish I remembered them.’
‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’
They enjoyed their meal together, pulling their Christmas crackers to reveal the silly paper hats that they then put on, and which always made them laugh. Brian finished his last mouthful of wine, which gave him courage as he had been trying to say something to her for a while. He put down his knife and fork and took a deep breath.
‘Ilaria, I must tell you something, something very important. Your grandmother would have wanted your mother to tell you one day, when the time was right. Passing from one generation to the next. It should have been many years from now,’ he paused to reflect. ‘But I am afraid you’ll have to hear it from this old codger instead.’
Ilaria gulped, she was afraid of what he might say next.
‘One day, you will have to carry a weight far greater than you can imagine,’ he continued, ‘and from a far younger age than it is at all fair to expect. You and I have both lost those we love, they were taken from us far too soon. I never knew how to care for your mother when she was born, so to inherit the responsibility of raising you when you were just one year old was hard for me.’
Brian took another pause, wiping away a tear from his eye and again inhaled deeply.
‘Your grandmother would have been so proud of you, Ilaria. I’m sorry—no, it’s too soon—we still have time.’
‘Grandad, please tell me. You always do this. I’m old enough now. Please!’
‘You’ll finish the year at school and after your twelfth birthday, I promise. I promise I will tell you everything. Merry Christmas, Ila.’
Ilaria sighed as she knew that was all he was going to say for now. ‘Merry Christmas, Grandad.’
3
The spring term of school started with a bang. Before Ilaria and Johnny even reached their first class they had gotten into a fight with a nasty piece of work who went by the name of Scars, though really his name was Scott. Ilaria had always thought Scars was a stupid name, anyway, seeing as he didn’t even have any.
Scott had approached the two friends with his gang of mates and started making fun of Johnny, just because Johnny was a little bit different.
If there was one thing in the world Ilaria hated, it was stupid boys making fun of her friend just because he didn’t look the same. She was overtaken by the same rage that she felt after every injustice bestowed upon her friend and ran straight over to Scott and punched him right in the face. Scott’s friends all laughed as he stumbled sideways to the floor.
‘Aha ha, Scotty, beaten by a girl!’ one of them bellowed.
This was enough to enrage Scott who got to his feet and instantly kicked Ilaria in the shins. She felt her legs go weak and stumbled to the floor but not before grabbing Scott’s shirt and dragging him to the floor with her. Just as she was about to claw at Scott she felt a strong pair of hands pulling her away from the boy. It was Mr Hill, her favourite teacher.
‘Ilaria, what on earth is the matter with you?’ he said.
“They were bullying Johnny. It’s not fair!’
‘All three of you come with me, right now.’
Ilaria, Johnny and Scott followed Mr Hill to his classroom whilst the rest of Scott’s gang dispersed, running off in different directions.
Inside the room, the three children stood side by side in silence as Mr Hill glared at them all. On the walls were various images of religious leaders: Buddha, Shiva, Jesus, and many others. Mr Hill was a religious studies teacher, but he always thought of himself as more of a philosopher. Unfortunately for him, philosophy was not something that was taught in this school and he had been warned many a time for diverging from the curriculum. He had often argued that certain rules were there to be broken so it was ironic now that he was the one enforcing them.
‘You can’t fight like that,’ he yelled. ‘Not just because of the rules here, but because it’s not right to harm each other. You must learn to respect each other’s differences.’
‘But, sir, my dad told me his family shouldn’t even be here, they’re illegal,’ Scott blurted out.
‘Scott, silence! That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You can tell your father I’ll be writing to him personally to invite him here and I’ll explain all about how immigration in this country has worked for the last five hundred years.’ He took a moment to pause to let that sink in. ‘Johnny is your neighbour and a fellow pupil at this school and any thoughts you have to the contrary you can forget right now. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Mr Hill turned his attention to Ilaria. ‘Ilaria, you can’t attack people just because they have made you angry. You will find many reasons in this life to be mad at people but hitting them won’t solve the problem. You have to learn to talk to those who disagree with you and make them understand your point of view.’
‘But he is always horrible and pushing other kids around!’
‘That doesn’t justify what you did. If anything, by hitting Scott you have given him a reason to hit back again.’ Mr Hill pointed to a quote written on the wall above his head. It read, An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.
‘Do you know who said that?’ their teacher asked as the three children shook their heads. ‘It was Mahatma Gandhi. Now, Ilaria and Scott, both of you are going to write me an assignment on Mahatma Gandhi and hand it in at the end of the week. Five hundred words each.’
‘What? That’s ridiculous,’ Scott retorted.
‘Let’s make it one thousand words for you, Scott. I can make it two thousand if you feel like arguing again. No? Good.’
Johnny raised his hand. ‘Sir, do I have to write about Gandhi?’
‘No, Johnny, but I would like a private word with you. Ilaria, Scott, you can both go.’
Ilaria and Scott left the classroom together with their heads hung low. Ilaria pulled the door closed and turned to find Scott staring right at her.
Scott smiled. ‘Do you want to be in my gang?’
‘What? Why would I want to do that?’
‘You hit like a boy, that’s why.’
Ilaria shook her head and walked away from Scott, fuming as she heard his laughter echoing down the corridor.
The rest of the school term went from bad to worse for Ilaria, as she got in more and more fights, regardless of the lessons that Mr Hill had taught her. It hadn’t taken long for Scott’s parents to complain about the teacher after he had broken up the fight that day. Needless to say, Scott didn’t write an assignment on Mahatma Gandhi, though Ilaria did, and for that she was eternally grateful to Mr Hill. For otherwise she never would have learnt about him and his fight to pacify people without using violence.
The problem for her was that Gandhi had eventually been killed whilst walking in a parade one day. And now, just for varying the content of the school curriculum again, Mr Hill had been called into a meeting to explain his constant disobedience.
Before the month was out, his room had been cleared and a replacement teacher had come in and changed all the pictures of varying faiths to just depictions of Christ.
The room seemed somewhat monotone compared to before; it was as if Mr Hill’s open mind needed colour and now the room was grey. Ilaria decided then that there was no fair justice in the world of adults or children, so for now she would continue to break as many rules as she dared, without thinking at all about the consequences.
‘Ilaria Hope. Come here at once!’ shouted her grandfather.
Brian was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a l
etter in his hand. She had never seen him so angry. She sheepishly walked towards the kitchen from the hall that seemed to have tripled in length in the last few moments.
‘Look at me, please.’
Ilaria looked up into his eyes. She could feel her own eyes burning and her vision blurred as tears came to the surface.
‘Would you like to explain this?’
She shook her head.
‘Seven stitches just above his eye. You could have blinded the boy. You do realise that, don’t you?’
‘Well at least he’s earnt his stupid name now,’ Ilaria said under her breath.
‘What was that?’ Brian asked.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just get so mad all the time.’
With a hint of pride Brian continued. ‘I know you like to protect your friends from these bullies. But you can’t keep doing this. You’ll become the very thing you despise!’ He took a breath. ‘You’ve been suspended for two weeks. You are lucky they didn’t expel you completely.’
Brian took a step closer to Ilaria and dropped the letter onto the table next to her. He opened his arms and gave her a big hug. She clung onto him and never wanted to let go. She felt so safe.
‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’
‘I can’t help but think this is all my fault. Maybe if I had told you certain things sooner.’
Brian took a step back from her and gazed into her eyes. ‘Ilaria, I think you are going to need to sit down.’
4
Ilaria couldn’t believe her ears. Her grandfather was telling her things she had always wanted to know. They sat and spoke for hours and Brian allowed her to ask as many questions as she wanted. He explained about a world of dragons that lived on an island off the coast of Italy.
‘Oglasa Island was uninhabited and a perfect place for these creatures to dwell as it led to a series of underground caves where they slept. They had been there for thousands of years, breathing their fire and heating the centre of the earth,’ he told her.
‘When their population had grown beyond a dozen, the heat rose so fiercely in the earth’s core that parts of the earth’s surface spat out devastatingly hot lava, which created mountains we know as volcanoes and filled the sky with ash. The ash became so thick that the world was thrown into a winter that threatened to end human life.’
‘It’s a lot to take in, Grandad,’ said Ilaria. ‘So what happens if the dragons all die?’
‘I’m sure that would be bad news as well,’ said Brian. ‘The earth’s core would probably begin to cool. The important thing is to find the right balance. A special bond exists now between the dragons and a select few people. Those people are your ancestors, Ilaria.’
Ancestors. Ilaria considered the word. It carried a huge weight and the implications of hundreds if not thousands of years of people bonded with dragons rattled her brain.
‘Can’t we just ask the dragons not to breathe their fire?’ she asked.
Brian shook his head. ‘In a way, that is exactly what happened, but they must breathe their fire the way you and I must breathe the air that exists around us. The way some animals must live in the sea. The way the sun must rise and set each day. Before the bond was made, so much ash was thrown up into the air that the heat from the sun was blocked out.’
Brian went on to explain how Ilaria’s ancestors, who had recognised the unsustainable damage being caused by the dragons, came together to tame them and asked for their help. ‘It was then that the deep underground world had come into existence. It is within those tunnels, deep beneath the island, that the dragons retreated and calmed their natural rage, reducing the amount of fire that travelled deep towards the centre of the earth. They still live there today.’
‘The dragons have two hearts,’ Brian explained, ‘and the second gifted them with various powers; to live for thousands of years, to withstand the heat of the centre of the earth and, not least, to communicate through telepathy. A fact discovered by the great ancestor of yours, who had once travelled to Oglasa Island to create a pact with the fiercest of all the dragons. This was how the sect of tamers was born. Each dragon connects his magic heart to a human’s, and as that person becomes too old to cope anymore, they pass on the connection.’
‘I met a dragon, Grandad. I never told you but I fell down a hole when I was out walking with Johnny along the beach and I found him in a cave,’ Ilaria admitted.
‘Yes, he told me. Speranza and I are bonded now. Though not in the same way that your grandmother was. He opened a pathway between you because he knew when I fell ill that our bond would eventually come to an end. Speranza was preparing you for this day it would seem. It is very tiresome to communicate with a dragon through telepathy. Do you recall waking that day with a headache?’
Ilaria nodded.
‘Well, imagine that multiplied by a hundred times. You can only truly bond with a dragon by touching it, but you must carry a fragment of their second heart. Soon we must go to him.’
‘So, I only dreamed of saving the dragon that day? But it felt so real.’
‘In a way it was, at least the lesson was real. A dragon lives for thousands of years, unless their magic heart is stolen.’
Brian paused to check that Ilaria was still following him and he could see that she didn’t understand. So he explained.
‘You see, there is a group that live on the edge of the underworld who crave the power of the dragons for themselves. They are called The Heart Thieves. They are a race of creatures who hide beneath the surface, hunting the dragons in the network of caves that you dreamt about when you found our friend that day. It is said that language is lost to the heart thieves now. They were once not unlike humans but they were so selfish they eventually fought amongst themselves and dispersed, living in solitude.’
Ilaria remembered the creature she’d run from in her dream. She didn’t like the idea at all that there was an entire tribe of these heart thieves living in the very caves where the dragons lived.
‘I don’t think I could cope with being bonded to a dragon.’ Ilaria’s nervous excitement betrayed her words.
‘Ilaria, I am old and cannot continue the work that I inherited from your grandmother. It was never truly my destiny anyway. I am just a caretaker, but after your grandmother passed away so suddenly I had no choice. When I have taught you everything you need to know, we will travel to Tuscany to see him together and you will bond with him as I have done ever since that fateful day.’
Ilaria looked extremely confused, it was so much to take in. ‘I’m sorry, Grandad, if I find this all a little hard to believe. It’s just that, well, it is hard to believe.’
‘Don’t worry, hummingbird, tomorrow you will finally turn twelve years old and we begin your real schooling. I’ll tell you all about our mutual friend. I will finally pass on the pendant that was meant for your mother. It contains the tiniest piece of the dragon’s heart and it will bond you together, dragon and tamer,’ Brian said proudly through his cheeky smile that Ilaria loved so much.
She had never felt afraid the way she did now. It was an odd sort of fear. The kind that comes the moment before you jump off a high diving board into a swimming pool. Her legs trembled as she saw herself plunging downwards with the world fading out around her. She just hoped that she would cope when she hit the water.
‘What is his name?’ Ilaria asked, hardly able to contain her anxiety.
‘His name you know already,’ said Brian. ‘It is Speranza. It means Hope.’
5
Rain lashed through the window by Ilaria’s bed. She had slept with the window wide open to cope with the early summer heat but the storm had come upon her without warning. She woke with a start, soaking wet, and ran to close the window. Her nightclothes were sodden, as were her bedsheets and everything else on her bedside table.
‘Happy birthday, Ilaria,’ she said with a frustrated whisper.
After a few minutes scurrying about to salvage her things, sh
e managed to get into a dressing gown and brush her hair and finally felt ready for the day. It was still early and her grandfather would not be awake yet, so she decided to go downstairs and cook him his favourite breakfast: eggs Benedict with mushrooms and basil. He had told her many times how the lieutenant that he had served during the war would reward him with the meal every Friday morning. Brian only ever spoke to her about the war when he was recalling a fond memory. Though she knew there was also sadness from that time, a deep sadness that he would never share with her.
Once the eggs were ready, Ilaria dished up breakfast into two small dishes and carried them to the dining table beginning to get anxious about the food going cold. Grandad should have woken by now, she thought.
The smell of the fried mushrooms would usually be enough to rouse him. She took the plates back and put them in the oven on a low heat to keep them warm and went upstairs to her grandfather’s bedroom. Ilaria knocked on the slightly ajar door and it crept open. No response came and the room inside was dark as the blinds were still drawn but Ilaria could see a heap lying on the floor beside the bed. She didn’t have to run to him to know that he wasn’t asleep. She didn’t have to check for a pulse or a sign of breath. She knew it in that instant, as a shiver ran up her spine, that he was dead.
The whole scene had been a painful blur. A nightmare come to life. The paramedics tried everything to resuscitate Brian but it was hopeless. Ilaria, watched as they strapped an oxygen mask to his mouth and wheeled his body into an ambulance.
One of the paramedics tried CPR one last time but shook his head and threw a look filled with sadness towards Ilaria before closing the door.
‘Ilaria, Ilaria Hope. Come on,’ Ilaria finally became aware of the voice that was calling to her. ‘Let’s get you into the car and we’ll follow them to the hospital.’
The Heart Thief Page 2