Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (10 page)

/Why indeed… you think I chose to be surrounded by those who hate my kind? I would much rather have been left alone in my forest, but if I had stayed there I would be dead now
./

And good riddance!

The only response was an exasperated sigh that echoed in his head. Corran scowled, looking around now his eyes were
adjusted to the dark and dropping himself down to sit on a rock. It was damp and rough and uncomfortable, which summed up this whole journey so far. When would he be free? When might he return home? He had never expected this journey to take so long or that he would be putting himself through such terrible conditions. But he
dare
not to go home with a dragon within him.

“Corden?”

He lifted his head at the call, squinting in the moonlight and finding Henry pushing through the bushes towards him. Corran stared glumly up at the only person in this group he could call a friend – and even that was pretend, for he could not continue to mingle with dragon sympathisers. Henry settled down next to him, not saying anything at first. If these people had their way, he would end up facing Henry on the other side of a second dragon war. For now he forgot that and just let himself be somewhat comforted by the presence of a friendly figure.

“I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to speak to your dragon,” Henry began, but Corran shook his head as the dragon’s laughter roared against his insides. He was so far from the fire that the smoke could not be affecting him now. How could the dragon still talk?

“I don’t want to talk about dragons. Everyone here always talks about dragons,” he muttered. It was the closest he had got to
speaking
what he felt. Had anyone except Henry been there, he wouldn’t have dared it.

Henry bit his lip,
then
nodded his acquiescence.

“So… what do you want to talk about?”

Corran shrugged. What could he say? He couldn’t talk about his life or his family or what he truly thought without
giving himself away. Even before they had started this journey together, Henry knew little about him – except...

“Tilda.”

Henry nodded, his face solemn. “She left?”

Corran sighed. He’d been trying so hard to avoid thinking about her but it had been a whole month now. He ached. The sadness he’d been holding off settled down on him like it had never left.

“She didn’t want to,” he told Henry. “Her father decided it. He… didn’t approve.”

The lie stung and the memory of his old tutor telling him he couldn’t risk his daughter hit him like a rock. Mr Benson had been fine with it himself – he had said that Corran was one of the best literature pupils he’d ever taught and that if it was just up to him he would give his blessing then and there. But the unspoken truth that had haunted the time he’d spent with Tilda was that Lord Huwcyn would never be so gracious. Tilda was not noble, despite her father’s status as tutor. She was not suitable.

“Maybe when she gets older she’ll come back to you.”

Corran could hear how Henry tried to be jovial about it, but he couldn’t even bring himself to smile in response. Henry knew that marrying without your parents’ blessing was bad luck for all involved. It might happen among merchants or peasants. But King Rhian must approve all noble marriages for them to be valid and he would never approve where the parents did not bless it. The idea of Lord Huwcyn accepting even his youngest, weakest son marrying the daughter of a tutor was laughable.

“Well don’t think about the end – that’ll just make you sad. Remember the good parts of it. How did you meet?”

Corran frowned. He didn’t think the good parts would make him feel any better either, but the memories battered at him to be told.

“My brother introduced us. I’d met her before, but never properly until Wint’end Night before last.”

He and Glyn had left their father’s party early and sneaked into town to join the celebrations there. The ale flowed more freely, the music was louder and no one was staring down
their
necks the whole time waiting for them to disgrace the family. He could only thank the stars that he had not been too drunk by the time they met – Glyn pulling him over to say look, it was Tilda the tutor’s daughter, all dressed up nice and singing along with the minstrels that filled the town. Her voice had been loud and ever so slightly out of tune but her laughter was gleeful. She had welcomed them like they were anyone else, not sons of the local lord. He’d seen her before when she helped her father in lessons, but never
seen
her.

“The Wint’end with the jousting? When that horse got speared by one of the Dunslades?”

Nausea rose up at the reminder, banishing his pleasant memories of the night and replacing them with too much blood. A horse screamed
,
made worse by Floyd’s drunken mumblings that it shouldn’t have got in the way of his lance. He should never have been allowed on a horse – but no one could say that to Lord Huwcyn when he had guests to impress.

“Yep. That one,” Corran muttered, fighting off the bloody memory.

“But… wait. I thought you said you were in Ostley that winter? To get those Mayelan dyes?”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so,” Corran replied, wetting his lips. He’d slipped up. He’d opened up to Henry and this was what he
got. “That was the year before. I remember the… the horse getting speared.”

“Oh, okay.”

Henry nodded in acceptance but Corran rose from his uncomfortable seat. He shouldn’t continue this conversation. Talking had been a bad idea. Anyway, there was no point moping about Tilda. She was gone and they had reached the end he’d always known was coming. He had to focus on his life now. He had to prove himself – which meant ingratiating himself with these
people
as much as possible so they trusted him. No more slip–ups.

He forced a smile on his face and clapped Henry’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Henry. Just needed to get my mind off things for a bit.”

Henry’s face lit up and he nodded, standing. “I’m glad I could help! My ma always says sometimes people just need a listening ear, reckon she was right about that.”

They walked together back towards the distant light of the campfire.

/I’m always listening, Corran. Don’t ever think you’re free from a listening ear
./

The dragon – Frang – had never spoken so seriously before, and a tremor of fear ran through Corran as he processed the knowledge that his every thought was open to this creature. It laughed. The sound like breaking glass raised goosebumps on his arms. He quashed it all a second later – he was not afraid of a dragon. He would be the dragonslayer to bring them to their knees and destroy them once and for all.
And so what if Frang could hear his thoughts?

It only added to his conviction that someday soon, the monster must die. The sooner he could do that and get away
from these people before they discovered who he was, the better.

CHAPTER 10

“
G
erard’s back!”

Henry jumped up from next to Corran and waved an arm towards the bobbing lamp. Corran tensed, wishing he had a sword to grip. It probably was Gerard, back from his mysterious trip, but what if it was someone else?

A face of shaggy hair came into view, illuminated by the flickering light. Gerard smiled and waved an arm back at Henry.

Corran turned his back and took another bite of succulent meat.

/I’ve missed the taste of deer
./

Half a skinned doe remained in the middle of their circle, with Corran’s borrowed arrows lying bloody for cleaning later on. Maria had never thought to mention that she’d brought along a bow ‘just in case’. Feeling full of real food had overtaken his annoyance at that oversight, although Frang was determined to try his patience.

Licking his fingers, he sat back with a satisfied sigh. Watery stew, stale bread and the occasional mushrooms could not come close to the taste of fresh meat.

/See? You’d be an excellent dragon
./

He ignored Frang. The voice in his head got louder and more irritating as the days went by. Not even being away from
Gerard’s fires gave him peace; Frang had woken and was determined to stay. Sometimes he kept up an incessant babble of nonsense as they walked north. Other times, he rested during the day and then took it upon himself to start talking the moment Corran tried to sleep, leaving him grumpy and exhausted. The headaches were incessant and Corran was certain that Frang was causing them.

Gerard settled down opposite and everyone leaned in. He shook his head when Garth asked where he’d been, reaching for some
meat.The
grin on his face concerned Corran. What had he been up to? It was normal for him to be cheerful but he was normally more subdued about it. Just yesterday he had overheard Gerard tell the other Firesouls to be
nice
to him, because it must be hard to be the only one in the group unable to communicate with his dragon consistently. If only.

/But where would you be without me, Corran? Lonely, no one to talk to…/

I’d be back in Dunslade Town in my soft bed with hot food every day. No ugly burn on my neck and I wouldn’t have to listen to your incessant yapping!

/You’d miss me
./

Corran snorted and Henry glanced over.

“You okay?”

“Wonderful,” he muttered, throwing the bone he had been holding so it landed in the fire.

/Waste of a good snack there
./

That’s disgusting.

/Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Bones are lovely and crunchy
./

You’re crazy!
Corran thought at him in shock that he would even suggest it.
I’m not a cannibal!

Confusion floated towards him.
/Cannibal? It’s a deer
./

Oh. You were talking about the deer.

The confusion continued for a moment longer, then the
dragon’s
barking laughter ran through every muscle of his body.

/You actually think dragons eat humans
?/
he roared. Corran could picture him rolling around on the ground in hysterics.

Everyone knows that,
he thought back stubbornly.

Frang continued to chuckle.
/Oh Corran no, nobody knows that. We eat deer! And mountain cats, goats! Eagles! Not… humans
,/
he snorted.

Well why not?
he
demanded.

/Even if I wanted to – which I don’t, that’s revolting – why would I bother? Humans fight with swords and arrows and wear cloth and little bits of metal that would get stuck in your teeth. Anyway, eating your neighbour is rude
./

Corran couldn’t tell if the last comment was sarcastic or not, but Gerard started speaking and freed him of the conversation he hadn’t meant to get sucked into.

“I have news for you all,” he began, wiping his hands free of the meat’s juices. Interest buzzed around the circle. He had disappeared hours earlier, only saying he would be back later that night. Corran wished he had been able to follow because if Gerard was sneaking off without the Firesouls it must be important. “I have been in contact with an old friend who is meeting us tomorrow. Baltair has been found.”

Corran’s eyes widened. Everyone else seemed as impressed as he was. Legends said Baltair had wings fifty feet wide and could tear down a whole watchtower with his fiery breath. His father had faced the monster and miraculously survived – even Lord Huwcyn the Dragonslayer had not managed to put more than a few scratches in its thick hide. Frang was laughing again.

“We will be meeting him and his Firesoul tomorrow.”

Baltair, stuck inside a human. He must hate it.

/You know nothing of dragons, boy
,/
Frang replied derisively, but Corran ignored him, his mind racing. The others were bombarding Gerard with questions about the legendary alpha dragon. He kept one ear open to hear their perspective on the beast that had burnt a hundred men to death at the Battle of Orvale Mine.