Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (11 page)

If Baltair was stuck in a human body, he was weaker than he had ever been before. He would have no gusts of fire and menacing rows of teeth to hide behind. If ever there was the perfect time to slay him it was now. It would mean a human dead, too – but if they were anything like the rest of these dragon sympathisers it was no great loss.

Henry caught his eye at that precise moment and a sudden wave of guilt and doubt flooded through him. He shoved it away. Henry was a nice guy. If they ever had to face in battle, he’d probably let him get away easy – but they would still be on opposite sides of that battle. He wished he could tell Henry that, to try and stop the boy being so friendly to someone who was entirely his enemy.

But this was it. This was his chance to become the new great dragonslayer. Kill Baltair and his human, and he had forever sealed his place in history.

*

The sun was still rising when they reached their destination the next morning. Gerard had woken them all a couple of hours before to start walking to the small clearing where they would meet Baltair. Tess and Maria were trying to fish in a nearby pond, and Henry was enthusing about several herbs that his
mother would love to use. Everyone else sat alone, trying to wake up.

Corran tried to imagine what Baltair’s Firesoul would look like. He couldn’t help envisioning someone like his brothers
;
as giant and muscular as Floyd, but with the intelligence and cruelty of Huw. With that image in his mind he had to doubt how easy it would be to kill him after all. But who said being a dragonslayer was easy? Baltair must have defences against being killed in his sleep. He would not be able to do it straight away – he’d have to wait, bide his time and learn everything he could about the dragon. Then he could strike with the firm knowledge that he would succeed and rid the world of a monster.

Gerard jumped to his feet from the rock he had been sitting on. He had been jumpy all day, and while everyone else dozed he had tapped his foot. He stared off into the trees and Corran swivelled to catch the first sight of Baltair.

At first he didn’t see them – his eyes searched for a big, hulking figure, not two women in worn clothes. One was older, maybe forty. Her clothes had once been good quality but were now worn by travel, just like Gerard’s. The other person trailing behind her was just a slip of a girl, with ginger hair that might have been bright if she’d washed it once in a while. Instead it hung limply, straggling around her face. With the exception of the cloak wrapped around her, her clothes were ragged and not just from travelling. Fresh bruises spotted her skin and he could see the unmistakeable burn on her right arm.

His eyes switched back to the older woman. She was not what he had expected. He hadn’t considered the idea that Baltair’s Firesoul might be a
woman,
although now he thought about it he remembered that Henry’s dragon was female.

Gerard hurried over to them as the others around them raised their heads and embraced the older woman, then turned eagerly to greet the girl. Corran didn’t rise as they came closer, but tried to remain inconspicuous as he examined the woman he would have to kill.

Gerard ushered them all closer before speaking.

“This is Sarra,” he said, gesturing to the older woman. “And this is Giselle. She’s Baltair’s Firesoul.”

Corran stared as he pulled forward the tiny, unsmiling redhead.
That
was Baltair’s Firesoul?
That little girl?

Her eyes met his and he slipped on the rock he was leaning on when she leapt forward.

“You!”

“W–what?”

The pure anger in her gaze was enough to make him stumble off the rock and back away. Only the older woman grabbing her arm saved him from getting attacked.

“Giselle!”

“It’s the dragonslayer! Huwcyn!” she snarled, attempting to rip her arm free.

Corran’s jaw went slack at her words, but Sarra shook her head. “He’s just a boy, Giselle. That dragonslayer must be fifty by now.”

Giselle panted as she continued to glare at him, creases of confusion on her face. Everyone else stared. He tried to roll his eyes and shake his head despite his heart beating manically against his chest, but that just made her snarl and jump forward.

“He looks the same! His face… same ugly expression.”

Ugly? She was calling him ugly? She was the one snarling like a wild animal!

“His face is the same!” Giselle repeated, this time rounding on Sarra to look up at her with wide, desperate eyes. Her fists were still clenched. “We know that face!”

It was unnerving to hear her talk like that – ‘we’. He didn’t know what to do. Even if they didn’t believe her right now, the others would think. It would put the idea in their heads – and some day soon, one of them would wake up and realise the similarity between Corran and Corden, or remember they’d seen him at a tournament one time. Why hadn’t he done more to disguise himself? And why had he ever thought Corden was a good alibi?

/Beats me
./

For once he succeeded at ignoring Frang, but only because his mind spun with horrifying possibilities.
This was it. His big scheme to be the next dragonslayer ended before it had even begun. Worse, he’d have this idiotic dragon stuck inside him forever.

“I’m his son.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d even thought it through – but it still seemed the only way to go. Admit it now and try and talk his way out of it. The shocked expressions fuelled his words and as he spoke, he tried desperately to avoid looking at Henry. “But I’m not him! I couldn’t say because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. You’d never trust me knowing who my father is. But I’m still like you! I’ve got a dragon inside me, I… I’m a Firesoul.”

“You’re Corran,” Henry murmured from his left.

He turned to face the other boy, stomach like lead, and nodded. “But I’m not my father.”

“He’s grown up around poison,” Giselle growled.

“I don’t want to be my father!” He ignored Giselle’s insult and reached for semi–true evidence to back him up. It came
with surprising ease. “I don’t want to be the best like him – okay I do sometimes, but not all the time. I’d never let a horse die to prove I was so rich it didn’t matter because I could just buy another!” His eyes met Henry’s and he thought he saw understanding. “I wouldn’t make my kids fight to make them tough.”
I wouldn’t be so scary I’d terrify Tilda’s father away.
Ideas that he could actually use were running out – and he was in so deep why not spout a full–blooded lie. “I want to see a dragon more than just the skull on his gates!”

He fell silent, panting from the exertion of shouting at everyone in the clearing. Frang was quiet but sent waves of derision his way. It was making him nauseous.

“We know how much he’s been trying to contact his dragon. We all see it,” Henry said. The fact that it came from him prompted guilt instead of victory at duping him so well.

“He helps us by hunting. He doesn’t have to do that. If he was like his father he wouldn’t do that, would he?” said Maria.

That’s not for you, that’s because I want decent food,
Corran thought to
himself
, but on the outside he just nodded. He could see the others nodding too. His heavily beating heart slowed.

“He’s just a kid anyway.”

That, he resented a little – but he realised with surprise that despite his grumpiness and despite his private plans to destroy their dragons, they had accepted him.
First as Corden the merchant and now, somehow, as Corran the dragonslayer’s son.

“What will Lord Huwcyn say when he finds out his own child is a Firesoul? His son is going to undo the work he did,” someone else said with a gentle laugh. The others joined in, until chuckles rippled through the whole group. Corran forced himself to laugh too, but the girl Giselle was still glaring. He
stared straight back this time and watched as Sarra leaned down to whisper to her.

Giselle, Baltair’s Firesoul.
This was the girl he would have to kill. Somehow, it was even more terrifying than if she had been the hulking figure he had imagined just half an hour ago.

CHAPTER 11

T
he dragonslayer’s son was watching her. She bared her teeth and his eyes darted away, pretending to be looking elsewhere.

She chuckled, ignoring Sarra’s glare, and Baltair laughed with her. The memories that had pounded down on them the moment they caught sight of the boy were still fresh, and Giselle was in no mood to play nice. His father had killed Baltair’s mate and although sixteen years had passed since then the new memory made it feel fresh.

The dragonslayer’s blows landed again and again on Eilidh, tearing into her flesh, carving her up like common meat. Her soul had long left her but he’d only just arrived – too late…

Fury bubbled like lava in Baltair and transferred to her. Since the incident at the mine they had been sharing emotions more. It made it easier to control and at least now she understood why she was angry – but it didn’t stop her wanting to tear out the boy’s throat in revenge for what his father had done. Sarra had pulled her aside earlier when Giselle had edged too close to him and told her that she could not act as justice, and neither could Baltair. Corran had done nothing except be born in the wrong family. Baltair had grudgingly accepted this, so Giselle had too – but they could still dream.

The chattering of the other Firesouls was not improving her mood either – she didn’t like being around so many people. Why did they have to meet them anyway? She and Sarra could have carried on up to the mountains by themselves much faster.

“Miss Giselle?”

The old man Garth had hobbled over to sit next to her and held out some bread.

“Would you like it? You look like you need a few good meals.”

She stared back at him. There were huge bags under his eyes and earlier she had heard him coughing up a storm. What was he doing? Why was he offering her food?

“It’s… okay… you keep it,” she mumbled.

He held it out a few moments longer as if she might change her mind before bringing it back and nibbling at one corner.

“Is it true how huge Baltair was?” one of the women – Maria – asked. The other woman at her side leaned in and suddenly everyone was waiting for an answer.

Giselle shifted uncomfortably. How was she meant to know how big Baltair had been? She’d only ever been around his soul.

He pushed a memory towards her; one she’d glimpsed before but not paid too much attention to. It was from his eyes as normal, but he stood in a field, with horses and riders. He could feel his Flier on his back, but nothing more than that came through.

/Pay attention Giselle
./

She remembered what she was looking for and peered around at the horses. They were smaller, but not by much – looking straight ahead, Baltair’s eyes focused above their ears. Giselle had always imagined dragons being massive
;
as big as a house.

“Dragons aren’t as big as you think,” Sarra said, the tetchiness clear in her voice. She must have got tired of waiting for an answer. Her patience had been thin ever since the events at the mine. “They’re slightly larger than horses. Baltair was no different.”

“And can he burn down a house in one breath?” asked another person, directing the question at Giselle despite Sarra’s answer. They were all staring at her with wide eyes and curious expressions – except Corran, who now avoided looking in her direction at all.

Hearing Baltair sigh, she shuffled a little further out of the circle. “I don’t think so.” She was not used to having this much attention focused on just her. Baltair didn’t seem bothered by it – if he was alpha he must be used to this.

“And how do we help the dragons get their bodies back?”

Giselle tried not to change her expression too much at that question. She had been warned by Sarra not to mention anything about Baltair’s memory loss or how they didn’t know how to get the dragons out – they didn’t want to panic the other Firesouls. But how was she meant to respond to a direct question about it? She couldn’t talk loops around people like Sarra could.

“Can’t say,” she mumbled, searching for inspiration for the inevitable ‘why’.