The Fire Ascending

by Chris D'Lacey

  A spark of violet entered David’s eyes. “Yes,” he said. “But I can’t tell you how.”

  “Why?” I insisted.

  For the first time, I felt his anger rising. “If you knew what must become of me and Gawain you might try to alter the timeline yourselves.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Rosa bow her head. Maybe, sometime in David’s future, she would have been moved to change events herself.

  “Sit down,” David said.

  “No. I will not be —”

  “Sit down,” he commanded, and I felt the full force of the fire within him. A power I could not hope to defy.

  I hunkered moodily, but I did not sit.

  “Now,” he said. “Will Agawin, the seer’s boy, speak what he knows or do I have to trouble the dragon inside him? Galen, if I’m not mistaken?”

  You must speak truthfully now, said the Fain. In one-twelfth part, he is your brother.

  I picked up a twig and flicked it at the fire. “I know how Gwilanna can move through time.”

  The temperature in the wood seemed to drop a little. The fire guttered. The treetops bristled.

  I looked at Guinevere. She nodded her agreement.

  So I told them what I knew about the sibyl’s birth.

  “Unicorn auma?” Rosa sipped through her teeth. “No wonder she’s got delusions of grandeur.”

  “It’s why she’s being drawn to the Shadow,” David said, picking up a scrap of badly scorched parchment. Ironically, it was the face of Gwilanna. Gretel stepped forward and turned it to ash.

  “I foolishly revealed this to her,” I said. “Whatever wickedness you predict might happen would not have come about were I not at fault. I have a spark of Galen within me, it is true. He would pledge his allegiance to the last true dragon and so do I. I would join you in your quest, David. I swear on the life of my seer that I will stop Gwilanna.”

  “Your request is favorably noted,” he said. “First, I want to know about your vision of Isenfier. How did that come about?”

  Must I show him? I asked the Fain.

  We are surprised he does not already know, they said.

  I dipped into my robe and pulled out the tornaq. “This was given to me when Hilde died.”

  Rosa stared at the charm in awe. “What the heck is he doing here?”

  I looked sideways at her. “You’ve seen this before? You know about … the creature it becomes?”

  “Zanna does,” she said, staring at David. “He’s practically part of the family, isn’t he?”

  “May I see that?” said David. He held out his hand. I put the tornaq into it.

  “I don’t understand. What creature?” asked Guinevere.

  “The charm shape-shifts into a bird,” I said.

  David rolled the tornaq between his palms. “Not this one,” he said. He raised his hands and let the charm fall. My natural instinct was to move to catch it. Then I remembered what had happened in the cave and I stayed my move, confident the little bird-dragon would appear.

  The charm struck a rock and broke into two.

  “No!” I dropped to my knees, scrabbling like a mad thing in the bracken. “Where is it? What have you done?”

  “I’ve exposed it for what it is,” said David. “It looks like a tornaq. It’s not — it’s a construct. It’s a fake, Agawin. You’ve been deceived.”

  “So where’s the real one?” Rosa said nervously.

  “Stolen,” I muttered, realizing what Gwilanna had done. “She must have exchanged it while I was sleeping. I knew I should not have drunk her potion!” I slapped the ground and stood up angrily. “I must go to the cave.”

  “There’s no point,” said David, grabbing my robe. “All you’ll find is echoes and dust. Trust me, Gwilanna will be long gone by now. Sit down, Agawin. We need to talk this through — together.”

  “But we must go after her. We’re wasting …” But I could not bring myself to say the word. Wasn’t “time” what all of this was about? I looked at Guinevere. The lines of her face were drawn with worry. Any trust she’d ever placed in Gwilanna was slowly beginning to fall away.

  David picked up the dialogue once more. “At least we know how she gained her knowledge of time. We need to find her now and get the tornaq back.”

  “Excuse me.” Rosa raised her hand. “The tornaq is with a sibyl, you say?”

  Her question was aimed at me. “Yes.”

  She tightened her lips and looked at David. “How did Groyne get into the clutches of a sibyl?”

  “Groyne?” I asked, a little confused. “This is your name for the tornaq creature?”

  “I could call him a few other names right now.”

  David steepled his fingers and tapped them slowly against his mouth. “It’s possible he’s part of the natural timeline. He was with an Inuit shaman before Bergstrom passed him on to me. We’re close to an Inuit community here.”

  I looked at Guinevere, who simply shrugged. None of this was making sense to us. For now it was better to let the others talk.

  “Come on, David,” Rosa said curtly. “There’s no way Groyne would have gone unnoticed if he’d been cast in Guinevere’s time. He was with Gwilanna’s mother. How could Gwilanna not have known about that?”

  “She was a baby — an orphan, from what Agawin’s just told us.”

  “I still don’t buy it. If Groyne was around in Gwilanna’s childhood she would have known and she would have got hold of him. No, he must have come here from the future, like us … but that doesn’t make much sense either.” She laid her fingers on her arm. The scars lit up. “My memories of this are slightly sketchy because of the time shifts and all that … spinning, but wasn’t Groyne robbed of his powers by …?”

  “Gwillan.” David narrowed his gaze sharply, as if a fly had landed on the end of his nose. “You’re right. What’s happened to Gwillan? He was with us at Scuffenbury, fighting the Shadow …”

  “… but you don’t see him on the tapestry, and you don’t see him on your drawing either.”

  “Who is Gwillan?” I asked. I was very confused now.

  “Another dragon, like the one in the drawing,” David muttered. “There are many in Elizabeth’s home.”

  “Tell him the rest,” Rosa added. Not waiting for David, she turned to us and said, “Elizabeth conceived a son, but his auma left her body before he could be born. It entered her house dragon, Gwillan, who stole the powers of several other dragons, including the tornaq bird we call Groyne.”

  “What happened to this … boy-dragon?” Guinevere asked.

  “That’s a very good question,” David muttered.

  But Rosa had an answer. “He turned into a killing machine.”

  “A slight exaggeration,” David sighed.

  “He took out a darkling, as … Zanna recalls.”

  “A darkling?” I gasped, remembering Voss.

  “That makes him pretty lethal in my book,” she said. “And here’s the best part of all: What if the bird that Agawin saw isn’t the true Groyne? What if it’s Joseph pretending to be Groyne? We know he can shape-shift. We know he’s clever. We know —”

  “Joseph?” said Guinevere. She pushed one half of her hair off her face. In the amber firelight, she looked so pretty.

  “Joseph Henry: the name Elizabeth would have given her son.” Rosa looked at David again. “It has to be him. What if he’s turned?”

  Gretel rattled her scales. A noise appropriate to everyone’s mood.

  David closed his eyes to think. When he opened them again, his gaze fell on me. “You say Hilde had the charm before you, Agawin?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did it bring you here?”

  “I believe it did. I … fell off a mountain.”

  “It saved your life?”

  I grunted at him. “Yes.”

  David looked at Rosa. “There’s the answer to your question. If Joseph had been corrupted by the Shadow, Agawin would surely be dead.”

  �
�But why deliver him into Gwilanna’s clutches? And how did he escape from Scuffenbury Hill?”

  David’s gaze settled on the heart of the fire. “More important, why is it only now that we’ve noticed it? He could be running this. He could be playing us all.”

  “Can you get a fix on him?”

  “Not without help.”

  “From Gawain?” said Guinevere, seeing David looking. “Surely he’s too young for any kind of quest.”

  “Gawain is no ordinary dragon,” said David. “He has the auma of an entire Wearle inside him. He’s going to grow rapidly. Very rapidly. By morning, he’ll have found his wings and his fire. In a few days’ time, he’ll be the size of these trees.”

  I picked up a twig and flicked it away. “When he’s grown, will you send him after Gwilanna?” In the eye of my mind the witch was a pillar of flame already.

  David swept that hope aside. “No. I want you and Guinevere to stick to your plan. You’re heading for the island, right?”

  We nodded.

  “Let Gawain see it. He’ll settle there and be at peace for a while.”

  “For a while?” Guinevere looked up, worried.

  “Till the end of his natural life,” David told her. “Hopefully, if we can catch up with Gwilanna, the rest will fall into place.”

  “So how can he help you?” Guinevere asked. She put out a hand and stroked Gawain’s neck. To my amazement, I heard a slight rattling sound and saw a fine row of scales come up. They were also appearing on his wings and back, spreading out and hardening like frozen water. In the time it had taken us to reach the wood he had completed the initial stages of growth. It would take most dragons a turn of the moon to get even near to that. He cocked a leg and passed some water, dousing half the fire.

  David said, “I’ll need one of his claws.”

  “You would injure him?” Guinevere picked the wearling up and squeezed on one of his four-toed feet. A set of talons promptly clicked out. Pre-claws, soft, like growing shoots, but they would soon be very capable of ripping out the heart of an evil darkling — or taking the head off a cheating sibyl.

  David sat forward and ran his thumb across them, examining each of the hooks in turn. “If I took out the whole stem, yes, it would hurt him. But I don’t need to do that. As the claws go through their early growth spurts they shed the armored casings around the main talon. By morning he’ll be ready for his first real push. The casing is all I need. There will be enough of his auma in that.”

  “What magicks will you do with it?” I asked.

  “I’ll write with it, Agawin. Like you will, one day.”

  I scoffed at him and shook my head. I knew some properties of herbs and I could foretell when the rain would fall, but words had always been a mystery to me. “How can you say this when I cannot even write my name in the dust?”

  Dragon ichor is a powerful tool, said the Fain. With a claw and the right intent, you could.

  I was reminded then of David’s conversation with Rosa, and how he had mentioned a book I had written. I asked the Fain, What is The Book of Agawin?

  We do not know, they said unhelpfully.

  And David was not about to explain. “One day, all of this will be clear to you.”

  “So, you’ll make a spell?” Guinevere asked. She stroked Gawain’s head. “With his claw?”

  “One to catch a sibyl with, hopefully,” said Rosa.

  But none of this rested easy with me. The dragon inside me just wanted to fight.

  And suddenly, I got my chance.

  At that moment we were set on the alert by a screaming yowl from deep within the wood. Everyone leaped to their feet. The unicorn reared, neighing with fear. Rosa ran to attend him. Gawain, likewise, flapped away and landed on the branch of a tree, out of reach. “Gretel, keep him company,” David said. The flower dragon zipped away and took up position on the branch above the wearling.

  Another yowl ripped through the trees.

  “That’s Thoran,” said Guinevere, biting her lip.

  By now, Galen had probed the wood and found the direction the cry was coming from. “He’s hurt,” I said. I started to run.

  “AGAWIN, WAIT!” David shouted.

  But not for the first time in my life, I took off against the advice of another, propelled by anger — and perhaps a dash of vanity. For if I picked out the small grains of honesty in my heart, I would have to concede that the arrival of David had made me feel less important.

  So I ran like a wild boy, crashing through the trees, beating aside any loose obstruction, listening only to the throb of my blood and the powerful urge of Galen’s auma.

  Before long, I came upon Thoran. He was a little way ahead of me, lying on his back between the roots of a tree. A large thorn was embedded deep in his foot. The warm scent of his blood swept into my nostrils.

  The Fain said, Poison has entered his heart.

  I stepped forward, hot and dizzy from the run. The air around me moved like thick, slow water. I thought I saw the shadow of wings go past. Then, out of nothing, she was there. Bent over, attending to the bear.

  Gwilanna.

  “Quickly, boy,” she said, without looking up. She pointed to a gnarled old tree behind her. Growing around its base was a large gray fungus. “Pick off a cap and bring it here.”

  “You tricked me,” I hissed.

  She immediately snapped back, “Do as I say or the bear will die!” Thoran whimpered and threw his head to one side. He was genuinely hurt, but I hesitated still. Spitting curses, the sibyl fumbled in her robe. She opened her hand and showed me the tornaq. “Yes, I took it. What did you expect? I’ve been stuck in that cave since before you were born. Can you blame me for wanting to experience time?”

  “Thief,” I snarled.

  “You can have it back, boy. The charm refuses to work for me. The dragon-bird doesn’t like my auma. Now bring me the fungus. It’s the only cure.”

  I looked at Thoran, sick and groaning. Through the trees, I could hear David calling. Any moment now I would have his support. I dashed to the fungus and popped the cap off the nearest stalk.

  “Give it to me, quickly.” Gwilanna fished for it with her outstretched hand.

  I put the cap into it.

  And my fate was sealed.

  “Thank you,” she said, gripping me tightly.

  I saw the movement in her other hand and knew right away she’d tricked me again. I felt the pull of the universe on the first shake of the tornaq. On the third, David burst into view. Before my vision blurred and the charm did its work, I saw him go through a remarkable change, from man to dragon in the space of a breath. A tongue of flame burst from his roaring mouth. Perhaps he intended to kill us both, to sacrifice me in the knowledge of stopping her. But the sibyl had timed her plan to perfection. All that vaporized as Gwilanna and I disappeared through time was her laughter, ringing out around the woods….

  With a jolt, my eyes blinked open again. I was still holding hands with the treacherous sibyl, but the woodland and Thoran were no longer there. Instead, we were in an icy wilderness that stretched away from us in all directions, its surface as vast as the pale sky above. In the distance I could just see an island of rock, but nothing that looked familiar to me.

  The sibyl detached herself from my grip, throwing me away from her as if I was dirt. I clamped my upper arms and shuddered. Needles of cold were pricking my skin. The sun was low and yellow in the sky. It looked on weakly, offering no comfort.

  Gwilanna took a breath and stretched her arms. The robe she was wearing dissolved away, replaced by clothing made from furs. “Bulky,” she muttered. “But I suppose it will do.” She looked at me scornfully. “You’d better imagineer the same for yourself or call on your dragon auma, boy. It won’t take long for your body to freeze. Fingers and toes are the first to suffer. The cold gets in and eats them away like maggots in an apple. The eyes aren’t pretty when they harden either. They set and shatter like the shell of an egg.”

 
“Wh-where are we?” I said. My teeth were rattling like a bag of loose bones.

  “Well, that depends where you are in the timeline.” She broke up the fungus I’d picked in the wood and ate it just as if nothing had happened. “Some would call it ‘Arctic’ or ‘Land of the Ice Bear.’ Personally, I like ‘Icelands of the North.’ That has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Ice bears?” I said, remembering that David had used the term when he’d first met Thoran.

  The sibyl flapped a hand. “Oh, there is much for you to learn, boy. The stupid ice bears are just one part of it. I have Traveled far since you brought me the tornaq. And all in the blink of a dragon’s eye. It’s been very … illuminating.”

  “Why have you brought me here?”

  “To show you your future — well, not your future. Yours is very much in doubt, I’m afraid. Look around you; what do you see?”

  “Ice,” I said plainly.

  “Wrong,” she said. “This is Guinevere’s legacy to Gaia. And this is Gawain, right here.” She crouched down and put a hand to the surface.

  By now, with the Fain’s help, I had also imagineered furs for myself. A brief dialogue with them had also warned me that aggression would be very ill-advised. The sibyl knew the territory. We did not. And in the tornaq, she currently had the only means out of there. Their advice was to let her speak at will. Do as she suggested: listen and learn. She might yet say something that would be her undoing. Then we might strike. I stubbed my boot against the ice but felt nothing. “What do you mean? Where is Gawain in this?”

  “Well, I’m pleased you asked me that.” She moved her hands again and imagineered a seat of pure ice. A beautiful construct, the like of which I had never seen before. It had a high backrest and finely sculpted legs. She set herself upon it in a manner which suggested that she and she alone was the ruler of this wilderness. “Interesting material to work with,” she said, meaning the ice. “Oh, do rest yourself, Agawin.” She imagineered a three-legged stool for me. “It’s a wonderful story. Well worth your attention. Really quite touching in places.”