The Last Dragon Chronicles: Dark Fire (8 page)

“I want what my mother never had,”

said Gwilanna.  “I want illumination to a

dragon.”

Zanna stopped and pressed her fingersinto her scars. “What dragon in its rightmind would want to be with you?” In aninstant, she became a raven and flewupwards as swiftly and vertically as shecould. She rose well above the height ofthe stones and it seemed at first that she

might get away, to lose herself among the squawking flock. But the force field closed with such intensity around her that her wings were stretched to their widest limit and almost torn away at the shoulder. She tumbled back to earth, having just enough cohesive wit to remain a bird as she hit the plinth. She rolled over, becoming human again. Pain was searing through her upper arms.

“Fool!” squawked Gwilanna, shaking a

fist. Several droplets of the ichor of Gawain  sprayed  against  the  ancient stones. The ravens there clamoured to be

touched by its power. Beaks and claws were displayed. One bird took a squealing stab to its belly. Fights were breaking out all around the circle.

Zanna pushed herself up against theplinth, coughing blood into the corner ofher mouth. She swept it away with hertongue. Gwilanna had reached the finalstone and was just a few steps fromcompleting her ‘G’. “What happens whenyou finish the pattern?”

“The beacon will light,” Gwilannarepeated, letting her hand drop loosely toher side. Ichor continued to drip from herfist. Vengeance clouded her feral eyes.

She swept her gaze towards the plinth. “There is an echo of the dragon Ghislainein this ring. Its spirit still cries for mymother. I need to put it out of its misery.”

“How?” said Zanna, watching thedrips. Each time Gwilanna moved, dropsof the ichor moved randomly with her. The right drop at the wrong time and thespell would be cast.

“Fire,” said the sibyl, brooding again. She laughed to herself. The ravens aboveher cawed for blood. “The circle will

magnify the spark behind you and the Fain will see it from here to Ki:mera. By the time they arrive, I will be gone – with the obsidian – and my terms will be written in your blood across the stones: give me illumination – or I take the dark fire to the

Ix.”

Zanna swallowed hard. Though the oldwoman was a distance away, she couldsee that a black light was flickering in hereyes. “You’re not a killer, Gwilanna. Whydo you need a sacrifice?”

“To remind the Fain what the Ix will

do to this world if they once possess dark fire. I’m sorry it turned out to be you, girl. It should have been that irritating boy – fitting retribution for everything he’s put me through.”

“Stop!” Zanna cried, scrabbling to her feet.

The old woman dropped her hand. “It’suseless trying to appeal to me, girl. Myneeds are worth more than your patheticlife. I’ve waited centuries for my rightful

inheritance.”

“Listen to me, you lunatic, sibyl to sibyl. Back away from the stones. It’s time to sit down, peel a mushroom and have a nice herb tea. You know that if anything happens to me, David is going to track you down, tear off your head and feed it in strips to the crow brigade here.”

“David.” She gave a scornful snort. “He’s a construct of the Fain. You think he

cares about
 
you ?
”

A needle of hurt pierced Zanna’s heart. She healed it over quickly and said, “He cares that I’m the mother of his little girl. If any part of you can relate to that then let me out of the circle, now. You had a mother yourself, once. Think about
 
her
. Would she have approved of this?”

A soft rain began to fall, beading theugly twists in Gwilanna’s hair. “Therewas an egg put aside for me once,” shemumbled, looking decidedly crazed butsoulful. “It was destroyed when mymother was killed in the last encounter

between the Fain and the Ix.”

“Gwilanna, let me go,” Zanna pleaded, coming right to the threshold of the gateway. Just above her, the  largest of the ravens sharpened its beak against the moody grey stone. “You’ve been tainted by the fire. If you let me go, I promise I’ll persuade David to help you.”

Their eyes met.

“He knows you saved Liz from the Ix’s poison. He’ll reward you for that.”

Gwilanna shook her head.

“Think   about   it!”   Zanna   yelled. “People are saying there are dragons in the Arctic. Maybe another egg – for you?”

Wretchedness tore through Gwilanna’s eyes. “But I should have been a daughter of Ghislaine!” she cried, and beat her fist against the rock.

With that movement, the last drop of ichor found its spot.

“Hhh!” gasped Zanna, jumping back as the pattern ran with fire. Gwilanna, her hand still raised, disappeared behind a wall of bright green flame.

It was around the circle in seconds.

With a roar it rushed straight to its target:the plinth.

Zanna fell against one of the stones,fearing a fireball or possibly even

blindness as the base of the plinth began to throb with light. It was Gwilanna’s voice saying, “No! That can’t be right!” that made Zanna realise: first, she wasn’t dead; second, she was still in mortal danger.

She uncovered her face.

Something was growing around theobsidian.   Something   muscular   anddisturbingly dark. Its torso – chest andback  –  formed  first,  in  layers  oftranslucent, thickening plasma. Then, astwo stumpy legs appeared, the piece ofobsidian was lifted off the plinth andturned over and round until it hovered at

the very heart of the being. Zanna recoiled in terror. She could see the obsidian

pumping, sending the light inside it

crashing against its glassy black walls. The heart was trying to burst – inside the body of a birthing darkling.

A dragon’s return

Within seconds, the creature’s shape wascomplete. The darkling flexed its thicksetwings and stacked them half-height againstits back. Its eyes bulged forth from agruesome face that would have petrifiedeven the most hideous of gargoyles. Acirclet of dark rays strobed from its eyes,probing every raven present. The birdssquealed in dread and took to the skies,but could not flee the kite strings of light. Then,  just   as   quickly,   the   probesdisappeared. The birds broke free andcame together in a ramshackle flock,landing several fields away.

The heart inside the darkling continuedto pump. The eyes swivelled and picked

out Zanna.

“No!” she screamed, feeling for her

arm.

But before the beast could turn its dark

rays upon her, its head snapped back and it barked at the sky. A large, bilateral shadow   was   falling.   Zanna   heard Gwilanna scream, “No! No! No!” It was a shout of intense annoyance, as though she was about to lose all control of the

situation – which she was. A torrent of

fire streamed down towards Zanna. In the

umbra behind it, before she passed out, the young sibyl thought she could see a dragon.

From her point of view, it was impossibleto describe what happened next. A short

time passed, then she simply became aware of being conscious again. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, spitting small pieces of grit from her mouth. She was still on the island, still within the circle, but the grass and the plinth and the monster that had somehow emerged on the plinth were now reduced to a sheet of charcoal. The smell of it, the heat of it, made her retch, producing more grit from the   back  of  her  throat.   Powdered

fragments were lining the cracks of her knuckles. It was in her ears and around her

collar. Everywhere. Like sand.

“Take it steady. Let me move you

back.”   A  hand   touched   her   arm.

Frightened, Zanna beat it aside andscrabbled for the sanctuary of the nearest

stone.

“What are you doing here?” she said, coughing. “I left you with Alexa.”

David   walked   forward,   leaving smoking footprints in the ashes. “Alexa’s safe. Please, let me help you. If you stay inside the circle, the air will become uncomfortable to breathe.”

Zanna mussed her hair. The dust of a

thousand ages fell out.

“Send the shampoo bill to Gwilanna,” he added. “She saw the dragon coming and cast you into one of the  stones. She was trying to save you. Unnecessary, as it happened, but it’s the thought that counts. You were screaming. Your mouth was open, hence the—”

“Shut up!” Zanna tried to kick him but

missed. She staggered to her feet. “Where is she? I’m gonna kill her. Several times over.” She looked down at her jeans. Unrecoverable. Ruined.

“She   got   away,”   said   David, “fortunately without this.” He held up the piece of obsidian rock. Gwillan’s tear was intact inside it. “She’s going to be one very unhappy sibyl now.”

Zanna whirled round and stared at the

place where the darkling had been.

“It’s dead,” said David. “Never really alive. I’m guessing that Gwilanna was trying to call Ghislaine. Somehow, she managed to get the auma of a darkling I thought I’d destroyed here once.”

Zanna dragged the back of her hand across her face. “How did the heart

survive?”

David looked across the circle. “The

darkling was an echo of the monster Lucy was forced to make when the Ix brought her here, to the island. It materialised at a different vibrational level around the

obsidian block, but was trying to find a match through living auma on the same plane. Thankfully it probed the birds, not you.”   He  turned  the  heart  like  a paperweight. “One cool thing you learn about dragons if you’re around them long enough is that they have the ability to modify their flame to the melting point of whatever  they  want  to   destroy  or preserve. He followed my orders pretty well. He was smart.”

“He?”

David took her hand and drew her to

the other side of the stones. In the fields, some forty yards away, grazing gently on the grass, was a magnificent bronzecoloured dragon.

“Grockle?” Zanna gasped.

Hrrr?
 
growled the creature, pricking

its ears.

“Not now. We’ve got to go,” David said, preventing her from moving closer to the beast. “Any ripple in the space-time continuum leaves an echo. If I was able to

trace you, the Ix could too. This little episode won’t go unnoticed. The moment will come when you can reunite properly with Grockle, I promise.” He turned and gave a sharp command.

Grockle raised his head. All the classic

dragon features were there: jewelled eyes, small horns, indescribably scary teeth. He extended his neck, setting off a ripple of colour which began behind his ears and ran to his shoulder. Tilting left and right, he peered at  Zanna. Whatever structures composed his eyes shifted like a set of tectonic plates. He was capturing an image. He knew her. She could feel it. Grockle: the young male dragon born from an egg that she herself had quickened five

years ago.

With what appeared to be a snort of reluctance, Grockle shortened his neck, opened his wings and took to the sky. He was a point on the far horizon before the island grasses had ceased to waft.

“Where will he go?” Zanna asked,

cupping her eyes.

“North,” said David, casually adding, “until I need him again.”

She threw him a sideways glance.

“A fire star has opened over the Arctic. A dragon colony – a Wearle – is being established there.”

“Then it’s right, what Apak saw?”

“They come in peace,” he said,

detecting her concern.

“Hidden? Inside a mist?”

He nodded. “It’s better that way fornow. The Wearle are cloaking the regiontill the climate is right and the Earth isready to accept them back. They’ll revealthemselves gradually to minimise theshock. It would be far too traumatizing ifmillions of people suddenly had to come

face to face with what they’ve generally assumed to be nothing but a myth. Now, please, take my hand, we
 
have
 
to go. Better that you travel with me this time.” He clicked his fingers and a small white dragon called Groyne materialised on his palm.   More   bird-like   than   Liz’s sculptures,  Groyne  was  recognisably dragon nonetheless. He had been created by an Inuit shaman and was a shape-shifter of extraordinary means. He made a smooth transition into a piece of narwhal tusk. In this form, he was able to move whoever was holding him through space and time.

Realising she had little choice, Zanna stretched her arm and let David clasp her fingers. “There’s one thing you haven’t told me,” she said. She waited until she

had eye contact with him. “Why are the dragons coming back at all?”

“Later,” he said. “Hold tight.” He raised the hand containing the tusk and shook it three times.

In an instant they had all disappearedand peace had returned to Farlowe Island. The sun broke through the low-lyingcloud. An easterly breeze blew in off thesea, sweeping anonymously across thestone circle, stirring and layering theharmless ashes.