The Last Dragon Chronicles: The Fire Ascending (26 page)

Gwilanna.”

“
My
 
world?”

“Alexa will be the Earth’s… guardian angel. You should begin with the ice bears.”

“The ice bears?”

“Mmm.”

On a table in front of Gideon, a largeold book had just appeared. Waves ofyellow parchment swept out from itsmiddle. Its bindings smelled of the hide ofa goat.

“There was no template created for the

bears on Co:pern:ica. Their auma was sent to the Fain world, Ki:mera, when the dark fire was first detected on Earth.

Their ancestry with the fire of Gawainencouraged the Higher to protect themclosely. But they’re restless. They want togo back to their ice. You should make anote.”

“A note?”

“In the book.”

I heard a scratching of claws. Gideontwisted his nutbrown ear tufts. What

looked like a delicate shower of ash

materialised and fell towards the book. I

watched the ash fall across an empty page, forming beautiful words of dragontongue. I had to flick my wings and hover just off my tip-toes to read them. They said,
 
In the

final hours, the auma of Gawain is returned to its resting place and the children of Thoran walk freely on the ice.

“You’re writing a book?”

“No,” he said. “Those are
 
your
 
thoughts – on every page.”

I squinted at the book. A single page turned. Then dozens all at once, bringing with them flickering memories of ice bears,   generations   of  them  through centuries of time. “Ingavar,” I whispered. The pages stopped and flickered back the other way. Out of the dragontongue rose an image. A striking male polar bear, sitting on an ice block, addressing eight others. I looked at Joseph again. “David talked about this book, but I don’t

remember writing it.”

“You don’t have to,” he replied. “When you came to the librarium, your mind imagineered it. This place is clever like that. You know it all because of your links to the nexus. It’s always been in your consciousness, just like the tapestry of Isenfier.”

The Book of Agawin
 
. A history ofdragons.

“And bears. And the Earth. The whole

timeline,” he said. “Think of it as a kind of manual   or   guide   –   a
 
Theory   of

Everything
. It will help the new Premen,when we’re done.”

I was about to ask what he meant by ‘done’ when a skogkatt appeared on ashelf beside me where a moment earlier

books had been standing. It licked its

paws   then  settled   down  to   sleep, wrapping its distinctive tail around itself.

“Floor 97,” he said. “Skogkatts and villhund.”

I jumped aside as a large black dogcame swaggering past.

“It won’t hurt you. It looks mean, butit’s just…  territorial. You’ll see plenty ofthose in Grella’s story.”

I watched the dog slink past theskogkatt’s perch, before curling up in ashady corner. As it closed its eyes itturned into a jumbled heap of books.

“A cloak,” said Joseph. “This worldwill need more animals when the time is

right. It’s all in the book.”

“Skogkatts and villhund?”

He tilted his head. Light was glitteringin the strands of his hair. “I saved two of

each species before the Dead Lands, here, became the waste they are now. I got the idea from this.” In his hand appeared another large book, with gold-tipped pages and a ribbon to divide them. There was no dragon auma attached to it, but I could feel it fizzing with boundless

energy.

“Did I imagineer that book as well?”

He shook his head. “Several Premen

wrote this.” He moved his hand in a gentle arc and the pages opened like fluttering silk. “I like the early stories best. In this section an old man rescues animals from a

flood. They ride a boat with him until they find land. Then he frees the animals and

the world begins again.” He let the book go. It flew out of the window on silent wings. “Floor 108,” he said to Gideon.

The firebird shook some dust from his

feathers and flew away after it.

“The animals are all here, hidden among the shelves. The whole building is a boat as well as a library. The cloak dissolves on a trigger set into one of the books.”

As soon as he had said it, myconsciousness jumped to it. “David’ssquirrel one.”
 
Snigger and the Nutbeast
. He had written it for Lucy’s eleventhbirthday.

“Good,” said Joseph. “You’re tuningin.”

I looked through the window at the open

sky. Its colour was changing from blue to black. “Is there going to be a flood?”

“Kind of,” he said, without really saying anything at all. Just beyond his head, some of the stars were coming to the fore. “The timeline,” he said. “You’re thinking about Grella.”

A desperate ache took hold of my heart.

“Don’t be afraid of it. Come and see

what
 
Is
 
. We’ll watch it together. Then

we’ll talk some more.”

So I fluttered up and sat on the sillbeside him. In an instant, he’d turned us tolook at the sky. “You’ve Travelled before – with Aurielle, of course.”

“Aurielle?”

“The cream-coloured firebird. The

clever one.”

“Yes.” I remembered her from Mount

Kasgerden.   Here   I  was,   as   she’dpromised, in my hybrid form, looking atbillions of fire stars again. The instant Ithought   of  Grella  those   fire   starsconnected to her sparkled brighter andarranged themselves in a matrix in front ofme. I was hesitant to touch them. Whatever

had become of the brave Taan girl had ended with a skull in Gwilanna’s cave. If I

thought about her final breath, most of the lights on the stars would dim, until I was left with the vital one that would have

taken me straight to the moment. But I needed to see her entire story. I reached out towards a peripheral star.

“There are rules,” said Joseph. “Here is the first… ”

My arm and the fire stars froze in

space.

“… You can witness any episode of Grella’s life, but you cannot interfere. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You will be there with her, right in the
 
when
 
. Use your fain to hide your presence. Ready?”

“Yes,” I said.

And he set my arm free.

Part Six

Grella

I began at the tragic chapter with Yolen. Iasked the Is to show me Grella buildinghis cairn. Several fire stars sparkled infront of me. I touched the nearest star and

materialised behind her like a breath of

wind, barely rippling the strands of her hair. Taking Joseph’s advice, I quickly entered the body of a mouse that was tugging at the shawl around the baby, Gwilanna. The mouse squeaked but wasn’t harmed in any way. The sound, however, made Grella turn.

“Hey, cheeky. Leave that alone.”

She batted a hand. The mouse scuttled

away. I hid myself amid a cluster of stones. When I looked again, Grella had picked up the child and was cradling it in

the crook of her arm. It was twilight, almost dark. There was rain in the air, but the ground was dry and tightening with frost. The cold had left its marks on

Grella’s face, but she was still as slim andbeautiful as ever. The same could not be

said of Gwilanna. Her ugly wrinkles were hard on the eye, but Grella seemed neither to care nor to notice. She sang a sweet lullaby over the child. The one that Guinevere had sung to me. Gwilanna made soft-happy gurgling noises. Grella touched the baby’s nose, put the bundle down and picked up another stone for the cairn.

I was in the process of blessing thestones, to pay my respects to my belovedseer, when I heard a stealthy movement

nearby. A twig breaking. A rustle of leaves. The auma of another animal was

approaching. Something far bigger and more threatening than a mouse. I could smell the hostility in its sweat, right down to the dirt between the pads of its feet. I looked at Grella. She had her back to the

baby and was still singing. The mouse popped through a skittish circle. It squeaked again, much louder than before. It wanted to follow its instincts to run. But

my overwhelming need to see what would happen kept it quaking by the rocks.

Remember, you must not interfere
.

The primary law of Travel. Joseph’s voice was in my head, reminding me of it. I was desperate to materialise and shout a warning, but all I could do was watch the

timeline develop – and wait for the creature to pounce.

A wild dog, a villhund, slipped through the undergrowth. Its hot breath blew across my quivering whiskers. On any other night my host might well have been staked with a claw and instantly ripped to pieces.   But  apart  from  slanting  a bloodshot eye, the hound walked by me and stalked towards the baby. In a silent, almost tender act of thievery, it hooked its teeth into the folds of the shawl, picked Gwilanna up and trotted away. Grella sang on and knew nothing of it.

It was the bark of another hound that

alerted her.

Like the skogkatts, the villhund roamedin packs. As the scent of Gwilanna

travelled, another dog rushed forward from a copse of trees. There was a bark. A savage scuffle. Fearsome growls. The dog carrying Gwilanna doubled back on itself, chased by two of its ruthless companions. They jinked and swerved and I heard a sharp yelp as a third dog gripped the hind leg of the leader. By now, Grella was also giving chase. She ran at the villhund with two large stones that should have been laid in memoriam over Yolen.

Her first throw thumped against the flankof a dog, sending it away, yowling. Hersecond throw fell short. But by then shehad caught up with her quarry. Her threatsand screams and flailing arms wereenough to make the dogs let go of Gwilanna and shuffle back baring their

rotted fangs. She kicked one chancer under the chin, drawing a spurt of blood from its jaw. For a moment or two, she was in control. But soon the entire pack had gathered, growling, wild-eyed, wanting revenge. They formed themselves into a ring around her. She had no bow, no arrows to fire. She had no saviour.

Or so I thought.

I heard a whistle, thin and sharp as ablade. Every dog flattened its shabby ears. A man stepped into view. Short and dirty,dressed in rags. His hair hung loose inspikes across his face. His legs were redwith insect bites. There were coverings onhis feet like bandages of sackcloth. Spaceseither side of his middle teeth. “Gurl,” hegrunted. He spat on the ground. “Lookee

tha’ way. Lookee at mounten.”

“Who are you?” said Grella. Dogs all

around her. A wild man in front. A

quivering mouse so desperate to help her. She clutched Gwilanna tight to her breast.

The man clenched his teeth and

whistled through the gaps. Every dog folded its knees and lay down.

Grella stared at the pack like a startled bird. “H-how did you do that? Are the villhund yours?”

The man narrowed his dingy eyes: two grubby little beads in a landscape of pitted, unwashed flesh. He licked his lips and gestured at the mountain.

This time, Grella turned her head.

“What?” she said. “What am I looking for?”

“Nuffin’.” He put a short pipe to his lips. A feathered dart zipped through the air and landed in Grella’s exposed neck. She fell instantly, collapsing in a bundle. She still held Gwilanna in her arms.

The fire star closed and brought meback to the Is. Right away, I reached outfor the next.

“There is another rule of Travel,” Joseph Henry said. “Beware, Agawin. If you venture too long at any one timepoint there is a danger you’ll become attached to it – or it will become attached to you.”

“Attached?”

“Your consciousness will feel you belong there. Then there will be no possible escape. The Is will reshape itself and you will live and die wherever you

are set. You could go back to her. You could be with Grella and rescue her from

her ugly captor. But you will not stop Gwilanna if you do.”

My wings shuddered. I nodded grimfaced. “I will keep to my purpose. But I must know what happens. Who was that man?”

“He is Stygg, from the wild lands of

Nomaad.”

I had heard of Nomaads.
 
Eremitts
 
theyalso called themselves, because they livedalone and kept no company. “Show methis man,” I commanded the Is. Dozens ofstars came out of the matrix. I let myinstincts guide me to one.

I touched it and returned to the same

clump of rocks. The mouse, perhaps