The Fire Ascending

by Chris D'Lacey

  She ignored my panicked search and said, “I also want you to know that when Gawain is safe on the island, I’m coming back here to be with Gwilanna.”

  “What? Why would you do that? You heard what I said in the cave. Her parents were evil. All that’s keeping her from going their way is the auma of a unicorn — and that was tainted.”

  “I don’t care. She’s looked after me. That’s all I know.”

  “She threatened us, Guinevere.”

  “No, she didn’t. She said dark times were coming. She didn’t say she would bring them. If she’d wanted you dead, do you think we’d be out here breathing fresh air? She’s hurting now, because of what you revealed. But she’ll come to our aid if we need her. I’m sure of it.”

  “I killed her father.” Suddenly there it was, as stark as the night. My mind flashed back to the fires of Kasgerden. “He turned into a demon, a creature called a darkling. She may have that within her, too.”

  Guinevere swallowed. My heart reached out to her. The day had still not fully turned and I had rocked her world like an unseen storm. She laid a hand on Gawain and patted him softly. He graarked and rubbed his neck against her palm. “Then you and Gwilanna have scores to settle. But for now, our only concern is this wearling.”

  She hitched up her robe and fell into step behind the bear.

  I looked back briefly at Gwilanna’s cave, half-expecting to see another darkling slither out of the split in the rocks. A cloud shuffled across the moon. The nighttime thickened. Not a leaf rustled or a goat bell rattled. But the sibyl’s last words lingered loud in my ears. Our story isn’t done. I respected Guinevere’s support for her, but I had never felt more aware of the need to keep my enemy within my sight.

  Thoran led us to the crest of the hill, just one of several wide-girthed ripples in a land of softly rolling earth. Distant spots of amber light pointed out signs of human life. A little cluster near the water. A dot or two in the valley we were leaving. As we walked the ridge, I saw Thoran’s purpose. He was guiding us toward a band of trees, far smaller than the Skoga Forest, which seeded a natural scoop between the hills and would give us cover on the long descent to a bay just visible beyond the tree line. A strange sight we must have made. Three silhouettes against the full moon. Two upright humans — one with a dragon in the cup of her hands — following a bear that hulked along on all four paws.

  “What are you thinking?”

  We were a goodly distance from the caves now and I hadn’t spoken to Guinevere since catching her up. I shook my head. Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because I wasn’t sure where to start. “I still don’t know what happened to Grella.” In the turmoil surrounding my outburst, her fate had gone unspoken.

  “You were close?”

  “It seemed so — for a short time.”

  “Tell me about her tapestry. Why did you draw what you did? The characters are strange, like no one I’d recognize. And wasn’t there a dragon, writing?”

  A dragon who’d reproduced the swirls around the tornaq. A dragon who commanded time, perhaps? I let the thought pass. As we started down the slope on the far side of the ridge, I began to tell Guinevere all that I knew, from the moment when Hilde had given me the tornaq to the point when I’d dropped the tapestry on Kasgerden. I tried to explain that most of the tapestry was a mystery to me. But it wasn’t the drawing she first picked up on.

  “You caught his fire tear?” She looped her hair with one hand. “You actually held a dragon’s fire?”

  “No, I … got in the way of it, really. It was only a remnant. A spark, I suppose.”

  “Even so. No wonder Gwilanna was wary of you. Does it burn?”

  I laughed and ran my hands through my hair, sticky now with grease and ash. A dead, curled-up spider fell out, which I imagined was a regular occurrence if you dwelled in that cave. “I feel Galen inside me all the time. He reacts to things, especially threats. You put him to sleep with your lullaby.”

  “But he’s awake now?” She skipped forward a little to look at my face, hopeful, perhaps, that my eyes would adopt the familiar scalene lines of a dragon.

  “Hrrr,” I went, which made her grin. She was so beautiful. Just like Grella. My face, I felt sure, was telling her so.

  She looked away, flushed. “So, the tapestry. What is it? A battle, Gwilanna said. How can that be?”

  I felt in my robe for the tornaq again, rolling it between my fingers and thumb. “Hilde told me I would see my destiny with the tornaq. Maybe that’s what I’m heading for — a battle. Sometime in the future. I think it’s called Isenfier.”

  “But you weren’t in the picture.”

  I rolled my lips inward and gave a slight shrug. “Maybe I’m dead by then?”

  We walked on a way, counting our footsteps.

  “Maybe you just weren’t in the picture,” she repeated.

  At that moment, we heard Thoran growl and I saw him rear up on his hind legs. We were close to the trees and he had spotted something. Telling Guinevere to wait, I hurried down the slope to be at his side. All of Galen’s triggers were firing. I could feel the Fain probing the shadows ahead.

  What is it? I asked them.

  An auma source. Faint. We do not recognize it yet.

  I began reaching for an arrow that was no longer there. Then, among the branches of the very first tree, a bird appeared. Even against the darkened background there was no mistaking the shape of a raven. Galen’s scent nodes scanned it in a moment. For a bird of its size, it was giving off very little body heat or odor. My vocal cords adjusted, ready for speech, but there was surprisingly little movement in my throat. Birds and dragons, it seemed, had a near common language.

  “Greetings,” it caarked in an oily voice.

  Thoran showed it his impressive fangs. “Fly, raven.”

  “Into the wood! Would if I could!” It hopped sideways and tried to take off. One leg was held to the branch by a tie. It fluttered crazily, sending a dead leaf spiraling to the ground.

  Thoran, slightly confused by this, dropped back to a less imposing height.

  “Who has done this to you?” I said.

  “Ix,” it croaked out, picking at the knot. “Ix did this.”

  My blood cooled. “Why? For what reason?”

  “No reason. No reason.”

  No conscience. That figured. “How did they come to you?”

  “Wolf! Like a wolf!”

  Is this a form they favor? I asked the Fain.

  The Ix will take any form that gives an advantage, particularly if it kills with ease.

  Galen had obviously registered that. I felt his auma raking the tree line. For a creature with only one natural predator I was surprised how cautious dragons were. I swept his focus over the bird. I could see little of it, just the moonlight glinting in its roving eye. “I don’t believe you, raven. How could a wolf put a bind on your leg?”

  I had seen wolves. A small pack used to drift around Yolen’s cave, passing on like wisps of smoke if we faced them. Their agility was legendary. I’d seen water struggle to navigate rocks that a lone male wolf could flow over with ease. But lively as their paws undoubtedly were, they could never have tied a bird to a tree.

  The raven had a simple explanation for it. “Magicks!”

  Under my skin, the dragon reared. The heat in my shoulders was almost unbearable. Galen was desperate to show his power, as if the mere sight of his cavernous wings would see away any symptom of malice. For the first time, I felt his utter frustration. Here he was, a giant of goodness, trapped in a form that could barely express it. I had to act.

  “If I set you free, will you fly with us and keep a watch for this wolf?”

  “Will kill Crakus. Ix will kill.”

  “Crakus is your name?”

  Caaarrrk! he went loudly.

  “Agawin, what’s happening?” Guinevere was struggling to calm Gawain. The wearling was treading about in her hands, flapping his wings in the manner of birds that sense changes i
n the weather — or danger in the air.

  I said to Crakus, “If you prefer, I could leave you here for the buzzards to find — or set my wearling upon you right now. As you can see, he has your scent.”

  Thoran grunted and tipped his snout upward.

  I saw the raven shrink in fear.

  “I have no quarrel with you, bird — but if I let you go, you will be in my debt. Pledge your help and I will calm the wearling’s longing. Think carefully on this. Even I can sense your blood flowing faster. I’m sure you know the effect that has on a dragon’s pulse, especially one still learning to hunt.”

  The Fain said, The bird will easily outfly him.

  But did Crakus want to gamble on that? I sensed his cowardice as sharply as the cool night air on my neck. Promising allegiance to us was the bravest thing he would ever do. And a pair of eyes in the sky could be useful.

  Before he could make his decision, however, a new and more potent threat emerged. I turned my head so suddenly to the east that Thoran huffed and backed off a little. I raised my hand to still him, at the same time using Galen’s sensors to pick up a thudding vibration in the soil: a sound I hadn’t heard since my walk by the long Horste river with Yolen — hoofbeats.

  “Guinevere. Into the trees!”

  She turned her head to follow my gaze. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “Horses. I can hear them. I think he can, too.” I nodded at Gawain. He flipped his wings and rose to the height of Guinevere’s chin. She grabbed him quickly and drew him back down. “Two riders. Maybe more. Get Gawain under cover. And whatever you do, try to keep him quiet.” I ushered her past me, explaining in broken sentences to Thoran that horses were approaching. I pointed out the direction from which they would come. Horses. Danger. Hide. His discontented rumble suggested he would rather stand up and fight. But he obeyed my urgings and melted into the trees with Guinevere. As for Crakus, I had no knife with which to cut his tie and no time to spend unpicking a knot. But I gave him my word that I would come back and free him if he stayed in the shadows and made no sound.

  I was right about the number of riders. I was barely concealed at the edge of the wood when two figures, on horseback, scrambled over a nearby ridge. Even with Galen enhancing my vision I couldn’t see their faces, but I could see their mounts. A unicorn and a horse. The horse rider, a man who sat slim and tall in the saddle, spoke. “Slow down,” he said to the unicorn rider — a woman with waves of hair like Hilde. He reined his mount around and stared at different points of the horizon, lastly at the trees. “Can you feel that?”

  The woman trotted the unicorn up. Its horn was complete, its white mane flowing. Its elegant body was silvered by the moonlight. “Is it her?”

  I felt my chest muscles tighten. Her? Were they looking for Guinevere?

  “No, I’m picking up dragon auma.”

  “In the trees? Is that a habitat they like?”

  The man leaned forward and gave the horse’s ear a tug. “Depends how young they are. Let your auma commingle with the ground.”

  She looked down, as if she was concerned about the drop. “Why?”

  “Just do it. You’ll understand.”

  But before she could speak, I knew what she would find. The ground was warm, like it had been at Taan when Galen was alive. The fires of Gaia were ascending for Gawain. There was no way we could hide from it. I readied Galen for a possible attack.

  “Remember the ark, just before we left Co:pern:ica?” The man was staring at Guinevere’s position, as if he could source her heat trail, like I could.

  “The fire on the water? Is this the same?”

  The man nodded, more to himself than to her. “They’re connected, over the entire nexus. Gadzooks must have used it as a kind of fire star so we’d be transported to the right place — and right time — on Earth.”

  “Smart dragon,” she said.

  And somehow I knew without knowing she was talking about the writing dragon on the tapestry.

  Agawin. At long last, the Fain had spoken.

  By now I had shifted position a little, trying to see the man’s attire. He was not as thickly clad as Voss might have been, and clearly not a natural horseman; he seemed uneasy in the saddle and he was also not wearing riding boots. I could see no sword hanging off his hip. No bow. No quiver of arrows at his back. If he was a warrior, he was unlike any I’d seen before. The woman, likewise, appeared to be unarmed. All the same, I could not take chances. Are they hunters? I asked. Was there a bounty on the wearling’s head already?

  The Fain paused before replying. They are visitors here.

  Visitors? Explain.

  They do not have an auma trail consistent with this world.

  What? I almost spoke the word aloud. I thought I saw Guinevere cover Gawain’s mouth to stop him hurring. A few trees to my left, the bracken crackled.

  This makes no sense to us. The woman is a kind of sibyl —

  The plague of my young life. I tightened my fists.

  — but the man, in part, is kin to —

  “Greetings,” said a voice.

  My heart all but stopped. The idiot bird had spoken. The sibyl had heard him, but had she understood? “Raven,” she whispered in a strange, almost self-congratulatory way, as if she had never seen a raven before. I heard Crakus shuffle along his branch.

  Despite the bird’s call, the man remained calm. “They’re common on this world.”

  “She’s got memories of them. A place called North Walk.”

  “Yes,” he said. “A party of ravens attacked Zanna there once. You’re phasing into her auma already. How are you feeling?”

  “Strange.” She threw her hair across her shoulders. “Like I’ve just jumped into my own reflection. One minit I’m putting books in order and the next I’m leaping through a wall of fire and sweeping across the universe on the back of a unicorn, learning to be a different woman. Everything I see or smell or taste here gives me another connection to Zanna. It’s like looking at the daisy fields around the librarium and instantly knowing every one of them by name. It’s very confusing. Am I Rosa or am I her?”

  “You’re Rosa,” he replied. “With shades of Zanna. But the longer you stay on this part of the nexus, the more like Zanna you’ll become. Try not to think about it.”

  “Easy for you to say. How do you adjust so fast?”

  “It’s different for a construct. We don’t have the same … emotional fluctuations.”

  “Hmph,” she went.

  “That was very Zanna.”

  She scowled like thunder.

  “And that definitely is.”

  “Greetings,” Crakus said again, scratching his branch.

  The horseman flicked his gaze at the bird. I was certain he’d understood the squawk, but as yet he was making no move to reply.

  Rosa reached forward and played with the unicorn’s silky mane. “I’m frightened of what Zanna means to you. The … love she brings. The powers she has. I’m scared I won’t be able to live up to her.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “You just be what you are.”

  The sibyl raised her head proudly. Just for a moment I was able to catch a glimpse of her profile. She was not as fair-skinned and appealing as Grella, but even the darkness could not conceal the striking, feral lines of her face.

  “Is she prettier than me?”

  The man turned his horse, unsure of how to answer. “Physically, you’re almost identical.”

  “Almost?”

  “Rosa, it doesn’t matter.” There was a pause. He said, “We need to get on.”

  But she was not done with him yet. “You’ve got a daughter, haven’t you? Zanna’s child.”

  This must have been true, for it made him swallow. “We’re way too early in the timeline to meet her.”

  The sibyl laid her fingers across her bare arm. A slight blue glow came off her skin. “Then why do I feel her auma so strongly?”

  He shrugged and said, “Alexa is … s
pecial. She’s recorded as a primary being in the Is, so —”

  “No,” she interrupted him. “Forget all that ‘Is’ stuff. I mean she’s very near.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Well, I’m telling you, I feel her.”

  For a third time, Crakus called out.

  Relieved to have a reason to end their conversation, the man slid off his horse. “I think you’re picking up a forward memory. We’ll talk about this later. Wait here a moment. I’m going to see what’s bothering this raven.” He patted the horse and approached us on foot. I half-expected Galen to burst from my body and throw his spirit self into the attack. But the dragon, like the Fain, seemed somewhat awed by this gangly man with the loping stride. The whole wood fell silent as he saw that Crakus was tied to his branch.

  Quickly, he drew a knife.

  I was clear in my mind that he simply intended to cut the bird free. But Thoran saw it as a provocation. He crashed through the trees and roared toward the man, flashing his paws and barking out of the pit of his throat. The unicorn reared, almost throwing the sibyl off. The raven squawked in high-pitched fear, as though he was the one about to be swatted. Meanwhile, my heart galloped forward with Thoran. I had never seen an overweight lump of fur move as fast as he did that night. But the visitor was faster still. He dropped, rolled sideways, and was on his feet again before Thoran knew where his foe had gone. Had the man been swift he could have leaped forward and plunged the blade into the bear’s thick neck. But he rolled the knife to improve his grip and just waited for Thoran to scent him and turn. Indignant at being out-maneuvered, the bear gave a yawning howl of a threat, delivered from a tilted, open jaw.

  To my amazement, the man roared back. “Stay where you are. I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

  The Fain read the roar and immediately said, A bear’s voice comes naturally to him.

  To add to my bewilderment Rosa said, “Change. Quickly. Show him what you are.”

  “I can’t,” he said, dancing in an arc to keep Thoran turning. “We’re too early in the timeline. He doesn’t know about ice bears. He’ll be confused, possibly traumatized. I can’t risk that.”

  “Oh, and you’d rather be dead?” She threw out her hands. A huge net materialized in the air and fell with a clatter over Thoran’s body. The bear punched and struggled and fell down and rolled, but every move only wrapped the net tighter around him, until he was imprisoned and out of fight. “Hah,” went the sibyl, pleased with her effort. “You never told me Zanna had magicks.”