Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (21 page)

“I know how to stop them and how to stop any more dragons existing. But… it’s hard to explain. It’s better if I show you.”

Huw snorted and took a step closer. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, as if he might slide it out at any minute. Corran forced himself to stay put. He would not back away from this. He wouldn’t give Huw the satisfaction.

“Well I don’t think we can trust you. What if you lead us into a trap? What if we all end up dead and the dragons rise again, because we were stupid enough to trust a
Firesoul
who used to be our brother?”

They knew. How did they know? “But… what? I’m a Dunslade. I don’t want dragons back, they’re monsters!”

“You’re not a Dunslade,” Huw hissed. He drew his sword partway out of its sheath, sliding it up and down so sunlight shone against the sharpened metal. Ember danced to one side. “No Dunslade would ever allow
themselves to be used by a
dragon
.”

“Well it’s not my fault!” The nerves in Corran’s stomach had solidified into a block of heavy dread. “And he’s not a real dragon, he’s not dangerous in me. He’s just a voice, he can’t do anything.”

“A dragon’s voice in your head! How is that not dangerous? He has turned you against us – against your brothers, your family!”

“No, I’m not against you! I told Glyn what I was trying to do, I wasn’t lying!” His eyes returned to Glyn, but his brother was staring off into the distance.

Corran’s heart pounded in his ears as he fumbled for some way to convince them. He had never imagined this situation. In
his daydreams they had always followed and joined in with destroying the dragon eggs.

It wasn’t going to be enough. He didn’t want to lose his chance, though. He couldn’t let Huw steal his glory. He cast around for a bit of information that might convince them he was on their side.

“Giselle! There’s a girl, Giselle – she’d got red hair, skinny, bit younger than me.
She has Baltair
,
he’s her dragon
! She’s Baltair’s Firesoul!”

“You are a traitor.”

The echoing of Frang’s words hit Corran hardest of all and forced his hand. He would have no glory at all if his brothers did not help.

/No, Corran! Please, don’t! Please…/

Frang’s begging continued in his head as he spoke, nearly drowning out his own words.

“It’s the dragon eggs! There’s still some in the mountains, they’re going to find some then do dragon magic to get the souls back into them so they’ll hatch as new dragons. If we want to stop that we have to destroy the eggs, then there’ll never be any more dragons,” he said in a rush.

“It would be easier to just kill all the Firesouls.” Huw unsheathed his sword.

“Wait – no. No. What are you doing? The King doesn’t even want Firesouls dead, he wants them captured alive!” Was this really happening? Was he actually trying to reason with his brother about why not to kill him? This wasn’t how it was meant to be – this was meant to be his glorious victory! Ember turned and galloped away, her beating hooves matching the rhythm of Corran’s heart.

“Who said anything about telling the King?” Huw hissed, taking a step closer.

“Huw…” Glyn spoke for the first time and Corran’s heart leapt. Glyn would talk sense to Huw! He turned desperate eyes on the one brother who had always been his friend but
still
, Glyn wouldn’t look back! He gazed at Huw instead with lines on his forehead as he frowned.

“Calm it, Glyn. You know what father said. Corran doesn’t, though. Wouldn’t you like to hear, Corry?”

Corran didn’t reply. He tried edging to one side, back down the mountain path, but Huw walked in pace with him and held his sword up to halt him. One step back and he would be falling off the cliff.

“You’re not a Dunslade. Father said it first. You’ve never been a Dunslade. The dragon was what made you weak and he can’t have a weak son. Can you imagine the shame, if people found out a Dunslade helped a dragon? We’d never live it down,” Huw said, venom in his voice.

Every reason Huw had ever hated him – for being spoilt, for being weak, for getting attention, for getting drunk at his wedding, for rusting his sword in revenge for what Huw had done to his arm – it all rose up now.

“It will be announced you died in a brave attack on the Firesouls, fighting the return of dragons,” Glyn said. His words were clear but quiet.

“Were you planning this before?” Corran snarled, fists clenching. Glyn’s words hurt more than anything Huw had said. “When I told you I was trying to get information, and now I’ve proved it and…
still
?”

“Corran, I wish it was different–”

“You’re not our brother,” Huw cut in. Glyn went silent. He didn’t even make an attempt to speak over Huw, to try and explain himself. “You’re just the body for a dragon. And you know what Dunslades do to dragons? They cut them into pieces.”

“I’m not. I don’t listen to the dragon, I’m still me,” Corran mumbled, but Huw carried on like he hadn’t spoken.

“I guess I started slicing you up early though,” he mused, moving his sword to bat at Corran’s right arm.

The scar twinged and Corran clenched his fists. He tried to reach for his own sword, but Huw’s darted out and a new gash opened on his left arm. Corran gasped, pressing down on it with one hand but the blood seeped through. It trickled down and stained the shirt more.

“There, it matches now.”

Huw smirked at his handiwork. Corran had always been fairly sure the first attack on his arm hadn’t been accidental, but now he was certain. Whatever slight sympathy Huw had ever had for him as a brother had been erased with the news he was a Firesoul.

“Huw, stop playing about! Get it over with!” Glyn called from behind.

“Glyn – please!” Corran shouted. He got no reply – just a downturned face.

“Yes, Glyn, but just one more thing – thought Corran might like to know about Tilda.”

He stiffened. For a moment it even felt as though the blood flowing out of his arm had frozen its motion, but then he felt some dribbling through his fingers.

“We were just stopping Droighair for supplies and guess who Glyn recognised! Shame you never told anyone else about
her. I would’ve liked to see father’s reaction. Maybe I’ll pay her a visit when we’re done.”

Corran had no chance to react – Huw’s sword flew towards him. He stepped back and when his foot met air he realised his mistake.

Huw’s sword could only nick his arm as he tumbled off the side of the mountain path. He waved his arms, trying to catch onto something as wind roared in his ears. His body turned, giving him a clear view of the trees right before he crashed into one. Pain ripped through his whole body at the impact but it wasn’t over. Frang screamed in parallel.

They crashed again and Corran got a glimpse of Tilda in his head. He should have gone with her… He should have left his family and moved north with her and he would have never got involved with any of this… The ground rushed towards him but the trees were not done, their branches tearing at him as best they could until they were above him and there was just the ground below and–

CHAPTER
19

T
he normal bustle around Cridhal had a panicked edge to it. Townspeople were sorting through mismatched weapons in an attempt to form a guard. Word had spread that Corran had betrayed them and apart from Tomlin’s sister protesting that he would never do that, no one seemed surprised. Grim determination came with the knowledge that Dunslades would be returning. Dragonslayers had never invaded Cridhal before but the people here didn’t care whether they tried or not this time. They had resolved that the Dunslades would never get past them to follow the Firesouls up the mountains. Giselle had told Sarra about the campsite she’d found, but the fact that they had probably already got past didn’t seem to have been mentioned to anyone else.

As she walked out of one of the tunnels children and the elderly hurried inside, relocating from their normal homes to the caves while everyone else prepared.

“Miss Giselle!”

Something dropped from above and she jumped, but it was only Tomlin. Looking up she found his sister hanging onto the cliff–face above the tunnel entrance.

“Hi! Good luck!” she called down.

“You’ll come back here once the dragons are okay, right?” Tomlin asked. His eyes were wide and hopeful. “You have to tell us more.”

“Why don’t you ask someone like Simon?” Giselle said. They should go to him instead. They would once Baltair was in his own body.

“The
mayor
?” Tomlin exclaimed. “But he’s old and… the
mayor
. We can’t talk to him! You have to come back. Please.”

She looked past at him at the now–familiar sights of Cridhal. She’d always imagined coming to the mountains one day. Her parents were from here. Baltair had lived here. It had been their dream, to get out of Tyrun and return to what should have been their home.

But it was quiet. People stared. The buildings were small and wooden, it was cold and everyone acted with the manners that Sarra had always gone on about. She didn’t fit here. Sarra had suggested seeing if they could work out who her parents might have been, but she refused. She didn’t want to end up tied down here to an extended family
who
didn’t know her. She’d had two families already
;
dead parents and the guard who threw her out. She didn’t need more. She could go back to Tyrun and return to her normal life.

But could she do that without Baltair? Did she want to miss the dragons returning to Auland?

“I might stay,” she conceded to Tomlin.

He lit up like she’d promised to live in Cridhal forever. He held out his hand formally and she shook it, just as Sarra had told her.

“Thank you, Miss Giselle. And thank you for keeping Baltair safe for us too. Good luck!”

He pulled his sister down from the rocks and they hurried into the caves together. She walked on, noticing the Firesouls gathering near the tree line. Not long now. She turned to enter Simon’s house.

“Giselle.”

He was waiting for her. Baltair lit up and her stomach sank.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked.

She couldn’t refuse, so she nodded and walked towards him. Hopefully this would be quick. She’d be leaving him behind soon anyway.

She leaned on the wall, crossing her arms against her chest as she waited for Simon to speak. As he reached down to pick up a pile of blue cloth from the table she noticed he was not wearing his normal Flier uniform. She stared at him in confusion as he held it out to her with his one arm.

“I would like you to have this.”

“Why?” she asked, not taking it.
It didn’t make sense. Surely he could tell that she didn’t like him. Well it wasn’t him she disliked, just how he was going to take Baltair away from her as soon as he had his dragon body back.

“It is the uniform for the alpha dragon’s Flier.”

Now she was even more confused. “But that’s you.”

“Not anymore.”

The bundle leaned to one side and she reached for it to stop it falling to the floor.

“You are Baltair’s Firesoul. When he is a dragon again, he will need a Flier who is young and capable. I am not a Flier now. Even if I had my arm, Cridhal needs me. You have kept yourself and Baltair alive all these years, it is only natural that you will be his Flier.”

She ran a hand through the worn, faded fabric. Warmth from Baltair bubbled up. Various patches had been applied over the years, sewed on meticulously. Thick golden stripes with several frayed threads stretched over the shoulders.

“It might be a little big,” Simon muttered, shifting on his feet. “But it’s all washed and clean, and you’ll grow into it.”

Giselle didn’t know what to say. She’d never had a gift like this before. Sarra had bought her the cloak in Tyrun, but this meant something to Simon. He had worn this for years, even after the dragons were gone.

“You should put it on, before you have to go.”

She nodded, staring down at the uniform for a few moments longer before turning back out of the room. She paused at the doorway and glanced back as Simon settled in a chair.