Firestorm (5 page)

Easing his right leg gingerly between Ra’s ridges, he slid down her side with care to avoid a repeat of his embarrassing collapse earlier. He walked forwards, gritting his teeth against
the renewed pain in his upper legs and groin.

‘It’s all right, everyone. You can relax,’ he called out, raising his hands in a calming gesture. Aurora lowered her head until her bottom jaw rested on the ground next to him.
He placed a hand on the side of her face and patted her gently. ‘Let me introduce Aurora – my dragon.’

It was unfortunate that his mother, Megan, had just emerged from the front door as he bellowed out his news. Her eyes first went wide with shock, and then rolled up in her head. She collapsed
with all the grace of a soggy lettuce.

‘Mother!’

Elian raced across the field and vaulted over the low, stone wall that marked out the edge of the garden. His father appeared through the door even as Elian reached his mother’s side.

‘Megan? Megan!’ Raim’s voice was anxious as he knelt down at his wife’s side and gently patted her face in an effort to bring her round. ‘What happened, Elian? Did
you see her fall?’

As Raim looked up at Elian, he became aware of the crowd of people gathered at the end of the garden.

‘What are they all doing here?’ he asked. ‘Have you been causing trouble, young . . .’ Raim did not finish. Megan chose that moment to stir. Her eyes fluttered open and
she smiled as she saw her husband and son looking down at her.

At that same moment a shadow fell over them. Megan’s eyes went wide. She gave a piercing scream and passed out again. Raim looked round sharply. His eyes first focused on the huge body of
the dragon only a few paces away. It took a moment for him to take in what he was looking at. Then slowly – painfully slowly – his head tipped further and further back as he followed
the neck of the dragon up until his eyes met Aurora’s and took in her toothy grin.

Ra had followed Elian silently until she was as close as she could get to the house without damaging the garden wall. Her head extended on her long neck well over the wall as she attempted to
get a closer look at Elian’s parents.

‘Get into the house, Elian,’ Raim ordered, his voice low, but firm. ‘Don’t make any sudden moves. Just ease inside the door and everything will be fine.’

‘Of course everything will be fine, Father. This is Aurora. She’s my dragon. Well, she’s not my dragon in the sense that I own her. It’s a bit more complicated than that.
We sort of own each other, really, but, well . . . Ra, this is my father. Father, meet Ra.’

‘I’m not going to tell you again, Elian. Inside the house – now!’ Raim growled.

‘Father, listen to me. I know this sounds unlikely, but I just found out that I’m a dragonrider. This is my dragon.’ He looked up apologetically at Ra. ‘I’m sorry
about this. Would you mind backing away while I talk with my father, Aurora? It’s bound to be a shock. No one from around here has become a dragonrider in a very long time.’

‘Certainly, Elian,’
Ra replied, bowing her head.
‘Your parents seem good people. Your father is a brave man. He thought to protect you and your mother from me. It was
a noble gesture. Please tell him I’m pleased to have gained a dragonrider born from such a fine family.’

‘I will. Thank you, Aurora,’ Elian replied aloud for his father’s benefit.

Raim looked in astonishment as the dragon’s head turned away on her long neck and the huge beast walked off into the middle of the field where she curled up in a massive circle of scales,
horns, ridges and teeth to wait. All eyes in the evergrowing crowd followed her every move.

‘It can’t be true,’ Raim stammered after a long pause.

‘It is, Father. I’m a dragonrider. Ra says what you just did was very brave and that she’s pleased to see her rider has a courageous father.’

‘But you’re too young. You can’t be a dragon-rider. You’re too young.’

‘I’ve seen fourteen summers, Father. I’m nearly a grown man.’

‘But you’re
not
a grown man, Elian. You’re not old enough to be flying around on a dragon. Riding a dragon is terribly dangerous.’

‘And you would know this because . . .’

‘Don’t be cheeky, Elian. You’re not improving your position with your disrespect.’ Megan stirred again. Raim’s hands automatically began to stroke her cheek and
comb her hair with his fingers. ‘Go and fetch some water for your mother. No doubt she’ll need something stronger when you tell your story later, but water would be good for now.’
Raim looked up at the crowd, ogling from the bottom of his small garden. Virtually everyone in the village was there now. ‘Please go home, everyone,’ he said, projecting his voice
without shouting. ‘I’d like to talk to all the menfolk later at the meeting house, but for now, please leave us to our family business.’

An excited buzz of muttering swept through the previously silent crowd as they started to disperse to their houses. A small number of children remained to watch the dragon, but most were called
away by concerned parents. Elian was suitably contrite when he returned with the water.

‘The beast . . . Is it gone? Was it real?’ Megan muttered, as she began to surface again from her fainting spell.

‘Hush now, Megan. Everything is fine. Here – sip this water. It’ll help. That’s right. Now, let’s get you inside and I’ll have Elian fetch you a nice hot cup
of spiced wine. You’ll feel much better with a warm drink inside you.’

‘Yes. Yes, that would be nice. I had the most horrible waking dream, Raim. I could have sworn I saw a dragon.’

‘You—’ Elian began.

‘Elian! Help me lift your mother inside, would you?’ Raim barked. His interruption was sharp, but his voice was not unkind. ‘Careful now! I think she might have some bruising
from her fall.’

Elian bit his lip as he lent his strength to help lift his mother. She was not heavy, being of slight build and half a hand shorter than her son. Between them, they lifted her easily and carried
her through to the small living area to the right of the front door. Once sitting in her favourite chair, Megan regained some of her normal colour.

‘Heat some wine, would you please, Elian?’ asked his father. ‘Use the spices in the upper cupboard to flavour it; they’re fresher. A sharp taste would be best. I’ll
have a cup too, as you’re preparing it.’

‘Yes, Father.’

Elian did as he was bid. He went to the kitchen, poured some wine from a skin into a small pot and hung it over the fire. He was careful to hang it on one of the higher hooks to avoid scorching
the pan. The wine was best warm, rather than boiling. He had not tried to get anything down from the top cupboard for some months. To his surprise, the fresh spices were well within his reach. He
added some of them to the pot and returned the rest to the cupboard.

The smell of the warming wine brought memories of good times. Spiced wine was a luxury saved for special occasions, such as midwinter feast days, summer festivals and naming days. These were
good days, filled with laughter, smiles and fine food. This was a good day, too, but Elian doubted his parents were about to celebrate his change of status. The next few hours would be
difficult.

‘It would be best to break the news to them quickly that you will be leaving, Elian. We cannot linger here for long.’

Aurora’s voice in his mind felt more normal each time she spoke to him. What was most strange was the setting. The kitchen had been the centre of his life until now. True, he had a tiny
cubicle of a room that was his private space, but life in the cottage revolved around the kitchen. There was always something to be done.

Life in a rural household on the high plain was simple. Food was life. Whether it was being prepared for eating, storage, or to use as barter for other necessities, it was always at the centre
of the day’s activities. What people did not grow, raise, catch, or hunt was bought by exchange at the local market, or from travelling tinkers. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was useless.

The kitchen was orderly and functional. Knives, spatulas, pots and spoons all had their own special place. Strings of onions and garlic bulbs hung from hooks, while rows of sealed pots and jars
were neatly stacked on wall shelves and inside the large larder cupboard that was almost a room in its own right. Two small windows gave natural light to the room, but oil lamps were often lit on
poor weather days.

‘How do I tell them, Ra? It’ll break my mother’s heart,’ he whispered.

‘
A wise old dragon once told me that to meet your destiny, you must first build a history. Destiny is calling us, Elian. We must leave to build our history together. Do not worry. Your
father is no fool. He already knows you must go.
’

‘He does?’

‘Of course!’
Ra said, her voice firm with confidence. ‘
He knew the moment he saw me. There is no denying the bond between dragon and rider. Our meeting has been
destined since the beginning of time. Nothing can prevent our partnership now. Your parents may not like your leaving, but neither will they try to stop you. Trust me, Elian. You must be open and
honest. They will do their part.’

To Elian’s surprise, Ra was right. By the time the wine had warmed sufficiently and he had carefully poured it into two cups, Raim had clearly had quiet words with his wife. Tears filled
Megan’s eyes as Elian entered the room.

‘Go and get another cup, Elian. This is a moment for sharing.’ Raim’s tone was as serious as his face. He looked different – strangely old – as if the recognition
of his son’s future had placed a great weight on his shoulders. Elian felt emotion swell in his heart as he glimpsed a flash of what his parents must be feeling. Tears welled in his eyes as
he poured the beaker of wine. He blinked them away. It would not do to cry like a baby at such a time. If the other village boys found out . . . but did it matter what the other boys thought? No.
Such things would never be a consideration again. He was a dragonrider. As such, he held status above any of the other boys.

‘Good. You’re beginning to understand.’

Elian did not answer. He returned to the living area with his wine. The reality of his situation was finally sinking in. He had always loved his parents. To see them like this was heartbreaking.
Emotions warred on their faces. Pride battled with worry. Fear for the future competed with joy at his good fortune. But clearly laced through every other emotion was love.

Raim raised his cup. ‘To Elian – man, dragon-rider and son. Wishing you happiness and long life. No matter where your path leads, never forget there is a place at the table here for
you.’

They all drank. The tears in Raim’s eyes made Elian more comfortable with those welling in his own. Megan wept in floods. Before he knew it, both parents had drawn him into a hug. It felt
good. Safe. Homely. When they finally broke from it, Elian felt strangely empty, as if a part of his life were dying. Then, in a sudden emotional reversal, he felt the void fill and in that instant
both he and Aurora felt the
click
of a perfect match as their souls met. Although Ra did not say anything, Elian could feel the joy of her presence within him and he knew he would never be
alone again. The feeling was not one of replacement, but of progression – almost like being reborn to begin a whole new life. His parents would always be special, but this new relationship
was forged with an invisible connection more powerful than any ties of blood or friendship. It was a paradox, for though the link felt new, legends told that the connection between every dragon and
rider had been written in the stars since the dawn of time. Something inside him felt the seed of truth in those old tales. The bond was predestined and special. There could be no regret.

Nolita had never known such fear. The beast was huge, and covered in scales and vicious horns. Although she knew it was a dragon, she could not bring herself to think of it by
that name. It was a thing of nightmares – the very embodiment of her deepest, most secret terror, and it had haunted her for as long as she could remember.

She was back amongst the trees faster than she believed possible. The path was well worn and easy to follow. She flew along it, her feet hardly touching the ground. Her blond hair streamed out
behind her like a three-dimensional golden flag, and as she ran, she screamed.

It took at least a minute for Nolita to notice that her throat hurt and her breathing was hampered by her screams. Regaining a small measure of control, she clamped her teeth together in a
determined grimace and forced herself to focus on the path. Details of the beast had burned into her mind and haunted her as she ran. It was hard to concentrate, but she used her fear like a
driving whip, urging speed, and reinforcing the need to put as much distance between her and it as possible.

It was about half a league to her home village. Although she and Sable had taken their time strolling through the woods, it did not take long for her to retrace her steps, running flat out the
whole way. She raced to the centre of the small cluster of cottages and in through the door of her home.

‘That was quick!’ her mother said, looking up in surprise from the table where she was busy mending one of Balard’s tunics. ‘Did you race Sable back?’

‘Sable!’ Nolita exclaimed, panting heavily. ‘I . . . I don’t know what happened to her. There was a . . . I was scared. I . . . I ran. I’m so sorry.’

Tears streamed down Nolita’s face. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and her eyes darted about with anxious anticipation. Emotions flashed and spun through her like a tornado. Horror and
fear twisted into worry and self-loathing only to spin back to horror and fear. How could she have left her sister to face it alone? She should have at least urged Sable to follow. But she
hadn’t. Did that make her a bad person? Had it got Sable? Oh, gods! What if it had? How could she live with that?

‘Calm down, Nolita. Take a deep breath. Now start again slowly. What happened? What scared you?’

‘No!
I must wash. I have to. Please, let me wash first.’