Firestorm (6 page)

Her mother sighed. Nolita’s obsession with washing her hands had become progressively worse over the last year. It appeared to be her instinctive response to a growing number of
circumstances. Other little signs of ritualistic activities were creeping into her behaviour as well. It was worrying to see her daughter trapped in such a cycle, but she felt powerless to help
break Nolita free of her obsession. She could not deny that the washing did help calm Nolita when she was stressed.

‘Very well,’ she agreed, ‘but talk to me as you wash. If Sable’s in trouble, we should send help immediately.’

‘Y-yes, M-mother.’

Nolita grabbed one of the hand bowls, leaned out through the window and dipped it into the water butt outside, half filling it with water. She shook as she crossed to the table, spilling a trail
of water across the floor, but she could not even think about pausing to mop it up. Her soap was in its usual place. As soon as she had it in her hands a calming sensation began to spread through
her.

‘It . . . it was horrible,’ she began. ‘Huge. Terrible. All horns and teeth and wings.’

‘You met this thing?’ her mother asked, her brows drawing into a frown. ‘Where?’

‘We had just reached the clearing on the other side of the woods. I think it must have flown over us as we were on our way. I felt it go by. I . . . I think . . .’

‘What? What do you think, Nolita?’

‘I think it was looking for me,’ she said in a rush, tears dripping into the bowl.

‘Hush now! That’s nonsense and you know it. From what you’ve said, I would say you saw a dragon. Is that right?’

Nolita scrubbed furiously at her hands. She did not look up at her mother, but nodded quickly.

‘Why on Areth would a dragon come looking for you, Nolita? That’s just your fears speaking. Did you see the dragon’s rider? He was probably visiting the village on a quest of
some sort. Dragonriders do that, you know. Now try to calm down. Can you tell me what sort of dragon it was? What colour was it?’

‘B-b-blue. It was b-blue. And I didn’t see a rider.’

‘A day dragon. That’s good. The rider was probably in the village. Dragons are patient creatures, Nolita, and sensitive. The dragon was most likely waiting for its rider to complete
his business. Well, I don’t think Sable is in any danger, but I suppose I should ask one of the menfolk to go and take a look just in case.’

Just in case what, Nolita wondered. Just in case the beast was dangerous? Wasn’t it a bit late for that? Why couldn’t Mother see? The beast was hunting for her – Nolita –
no one else. She had felt it. She had unconsciously known for years that it was coming. It had haunted her dreams and fed her fears with the promise that one day it would find her. Now it was here.
Her nightmare had become a reality. She would have to leave to escape it. There was no time to lose. It would find her soon. She wasn’t safe. She needed to go, and she needed to go now.

Nolita blinked away her tears. The washing had helped, but it was her decision to run away that gave her temporary control of her fear. She dried her hands and told her mother she would take the
dirty water to the waste ditch.

Once outside the cottage she began to think through her plan. What did she need to take with her? She could not carry much. Any weight would slow her down. She would have to forage for food as
she went. The question was: where should she go? Was there anywhere she
could
go to escape such a beast?

She tipped the dirty water into the waste ditch in a controlled stream. There was something hypnotising about the way the water splattered and gurgled in the mud. A shadow brushed her, moving at
speed. She glanced up and her stomach instantly knotted with fear. It was too late to think about what to take. She was out of time. It was here. Without thinking, Nolita dropped the bowl and
launched into a wild sprint for the nearby trees.

Chapter Five

If Elian was surprised by his parents’ acceptance of his newfound status, he was stunned by the response of the rest of the village. That evening the men held a special
raising ceremony for him, accepting him into the adult community. To his amazement and delight, his raising gift was a dragonrider’s saddle. He had not known that such a thing existed within
their small community. It transpired that by law, every tanner had to make and keep a dragon saddle against the day that a rider should need one. The tanner in his village had not neglected this
duty and proudly presented it to the Cleric, who prayed a simple blessing over it before passing it to Elian.

The village elders had long ago decided that dragon lore would not be taught to youngsters. It was feared that knowledge of dragons would only encourage daydreaming amongst the young. However,
it was a requirement of the adult community to know their duty to the fortunate few whom the dragons chose, so they were taught about dragons and dragonriders after their raising ceremony.

The problem with this system was obvious. Dragons sought out their riders as they reached puberty. If one were chosen from the village, the individual would know nothing of the history and place
of dragonriders in society. This was the frustrating situation Elian faced. References made to him about his newfound role were more confusing than enlightening. Worse, he knew he would not be able
to stay long enough to learn what he needed to know. He could feel Ra’s need to leave, a need that could not be denied.

When the men had completed the special raising ceremony, the women of the village joined the celebration. They brought more surprise gifts, which Elian quickly realised would prove invaluable
when he left to begin his new life.

First, a heavy, fur-lined sheepskin jacket, together with a matching pair of trousers. They were too big, but the women insisted he would grow into them soon enough. He was also given a leather,
fur-lined hat, designed to cover the ears and secure under the chin; mitten gloves and a special pair of thick boots, again lined with fur. How they had such garments to give was again a source of
mystery to him, for the weather in this part of Racafi rarely turned cold. ‘How
is not important,’
Ra assured him.
‘Take them and relay my thanks to your people, Elian,
for the gifts are well given. You will be grateful for them soon enough.’

The village blacksmith gave him his favourite gift of the evening: a sword. It was plain with a straight blade of medium length and weight, a leather-bound handle and a simple hand guard. It was
presented in a scabbard that could either be attached to his waist belt, or strapped across his back. Elian accepted the gift gravely, though he was acutely aware of the frowns of disapproval and
worry on his parents’ faces. Would he have need of such a weapon? He hoped not. If he did, he would not know how to wield it. The gift raised the question in his mind once more: what exactly
was
his role as a dragonrider?

‘
A question that begs much exploration, Elian. We can discuss your heritage at length when we are underway. Enjoy the moment. Tomorrow we must leave. Our destiny calls.’

Elian took Aurora’s message to heart. He quickly realised that to be chosen as a dragonrider was a great honour, and that honour was reflected on the village. He managed to stop worrying
and throw himself into the festivities, and the rest of the evening was a blur of music and dancing, laughter and tears.

The next morning, Elian’s eyes burned from lack of sleep. The partying had continued well into the small hours of the morning – something he had never experienced before. All he
wanted to do was to stay in bed, but he could feel Ra’s desire to be under way. There was a sense of urgency in their bond that he could not ignore. He washed and dressed for what could be
the last time in his home.

Nerves and excitement warred within him as he gathered his things. His stomach gnawed with hunger, or was it nervousness? He could not tell the difference.

‘Good morning, Elian,’ Raim said brightly as he walked through to the kitchen. ‘Take a seat. Your mother has prepared a special farewell breakfast for you.’

The smell of the food tightened Elian’s stomach even more. He had eaten so much the previous evening it seemed impossible that he could be hungry again already, but as he forked in the
first mouthful, he realised he was. It would be a difficult balance, he realised, to eat enough to sate his hunger, but not so much that his nervousness might cause him embarrassment later. In his
mind he sensed Ra’s presence. She seemed mildly amused.

‘You won’t think it funny if I vomit all over your back,’
he thought, directing a mental image of this to the corner of his mind where Aurora appeared to be.

‘If you do, then I’ll have you polishing my scales all afternoon,’
she responded haughtily.
‘That sort of behaviour is not acceptable for a
dragonrider.’

It took a great deal of self-control, but somehow Elian managed to do justice to the breakfast that Megan had prepared. She fussed around him, telling him how pale he looked, and asking him if
he really felt up to leaving today. And where was he going, and how long would he be gone? In truth, he felt anything but ready, but Aurora was insistent.

‘We must go. We have to see the Oracle – the great Dragon Spirit who dwells in Orupee. My dragonsense tells me that any delay will be disastrous. As to how long we will be
gone
. . .
I would not make any rash promises if I were you.’

Still, it took until late morning for his mother to stop fussing. Her eyes were red and puffy.

‘Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll be back. You’ll see,’ he called from Aurora’s back. All right, Ra,’ he added under his breath. ‘Try to make it a smooth
take-off, would you? I’m as jittery as a sheep that’s caught sight of the shears. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the entire village by falling off as we wave
goodbye.’

Ra did not answer, but turned and launched across the field. With his gloved hands holding firmly onto the grips of the dragon saddle and his feet set in the stirrups, Elian felt in far less
danger of falling off than he had when riding bareback. The saddle had taken a while to figure out, but once Elian had worked out how to fit it between Ra’s ridges and where the straps went
to secure it in place, he felt a lot more confident. The saddle also offered a degree of comfort that was most welcome.

With just a few powerful sweeps of Aurora’s great wings, they were airborne and climbing.

‘Hold on tight, Elian. We’re going to give them a flypast to remember.’

‘Do we have to?’ he asked, concentrating hard on breathing deeply and not allowing the butterflies in his stomach to get the better of him.

‘They’re your people. They have celebrated in your honour. The least we can do in return is to give them a good show as we leave.’

They were barely above treetop height when Ra entered the turn. Elian gasped as she dipped her wingtip and powered around in a semi-circle to head back towards the village. He was sweating
profusely under the thick clothing. All he wanted was to settle into a steady rhythm that his nerve-strained stomach could anticipate, and climb into cooler air. Ra’s wings were beating
powerfully and at a higher frequency than the previous day, but instead of gaining height, they were gaining speed.

‘Start waving, Elian. Here we go.
’

Elian did as he was told, waving with his left hand whilst clamping the fingers of his right hand around the saddle grip. He had no idea what Ra intended, but he felt sure his nerves would not
approve.

They approached the village at the highest speed Elian had yet experienced on Ra’s back, and as they did so, the dragon extended her wings to their full span. No longer beating them, she
entered a shallow dive towards the crowd of people who were waving and cheering excitedly. Lower and lower they went, and it seemed to Elian that the ground began to rush past faster and faster as
they descended.

An instant later they were skimming above the heads of the crowd so close that many dived to the ground for fear of the dragon crashing into them. Then Ra gently angled her wings against the
airflow and Elian gasped as, without a single beat of her wings, she soared gracefully upwards, high above the village.

‘Flying lesson number one, Elian – speed can be converted into height with minimal effort.’

They climbed and the air-rush gradually reduced until there seemed little more than a breath of a breeze. As they ran out of momentum, Ra restarted the powerful rhythm of her wingbeat and they
turned and climbed northeastwards.

‘You were right, Ra,’ he said, grinning back at the crowd and giving a final wave. ‘That was amazing! They won’t forget that in a hurry. I doubt if
I
will
either.’

It was a short time later, as they were crossing the far wall of the Haleen Valley, with Elian’s village lost in the distance behind them, that the enormity of what he was doing began to
sink in.

‘Where are we going now?’ he asked.

‘
I told you – to Orupee to see the Oracle.’