Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (26 page)

He smiled at her, drinking in the way her lips quirked up in one corner and how her blue–grey eyes narrowed as she enjoyed his gaze. He’d never understood how much he missed her until now. She understood him like no one else could.

“So what’s he like? When did you find out?” She sat up straight, dislodging their comfortable position and rounding on him with a horrified expression. “What did your
father
say?” Concern filled her and she squeezed his hand.

“I… I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

He didn’t know what this was, what it could be, but if it only lasted a little while he didn’t want to taint it with bad memories. His situation of having nothing to offer her had not changed, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“So what now?” she asked. Tilda was like that – she never pushed him to talk about something if he didn’t want to. Instead she just moved on to the next topic, as if he had never even mentioned not wanting to talk. “We should go to Cridhal, that’s where all the other Firesouls have gone.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, sure the shame was showing through on his face.

She nodded, accepting it without question. “So what? What does the dragon say?”

He frowned and sent the question inward. He wasn’t used to asking Frang anything, but the dragon popped up straight away.

/To the lake
./

“To… the lake?” Corran repeated, questioning Tilda and Frang at the same time. He had no idea where ‘the lake’ was, or the significance of it. The only thing that mattered to him was that Tilda seemed intent on coming with him.

“What’s there?” she asked, climbing to her feet and reaching for the donkey.

/My egg
./

CHAPTER
23

T
he lake was clear ahead of them and now Corran remembered it from his geography and history lessons – it was the lake between the border of their country and the Ikjorians. He hadn’t known just how far north they were but the Wall was easy to spot now, looping all around to protect Aulanders and their gold mines. Somewhere nearby, Frang’s egg was hidden.

He felt like a fool riding on the donkey while Tilda walked alongside him, but she had insisted. He’d tripped, once, and that was all it took to convince her that he needed rest. She had refused to go any further until he got on the donkey.

Every now and then he glanced down at her. Sometimes she would look back and smile but most of the time she marched on. He wondered at how he had got himself in this situation and laughed quietly. The bleakness within him following the confrontation with Huw was still there, but now it was buried under a deep layer of content. For as long as this continued, he could forget the sadness and just enjoy being with her.

“What about your Pa? Won’t he be worried?” he asked. He had always been envious of her relationship with her father.

She shook her head. “I told him I was coming after you. He trusts me.”

/Down that hill
./

He repeated the instructions to Tilda, still not quite used to taking them from Frang. The dragon had done well so far at not making comments about Tilda but several times he heard the beginnings of sentences that trailed off. Part of him thought that maybe he should try and shield his thoughts better, but most of him was still basking in the glorious imperfection that was Tilda.

/You’re drooling
./

Frang!

/I lasted so long though
!/
Frang protested.
/It was one little comment
!/

I’m taking you to your egg, you could at least be grateful!

/Psh, you owe me. I saved your life
./

What? When?

/When you were lying on the forest floor ready to die? I sent out that warmth because you were freezing to death and not doing anything about it. And look what you’d have missed if I’d let you die
!/

He could have retorted something about how Frang would have died too and that was all he cared about – but the words rang true. A week ago now it must be since he had fallen off that cliff; a week ago he had been hoping to die. With Tilda beside him, even when he had no idea where Frang was taking them and without a clue what might happen after this, he couldn’t imagine it.

A thought jumped into his head and he stiffened on the donkey. He had started following Frang’s directions because he had no desire to live and didn’t care if he was led into a trap – but now Tilda was with him too!

/Why would I harm a girl who is encouraging you to side with dragons
?/

To get back at me?

/Corran, once I have my egg and am reborn I will never bother you again
./

He frowned, uncertain.

/And you still owe me your life anyway
./

“Corran, are you okay?” Tilda asked, touching his leg softly.

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak – but froze.

Fighting in a valley at night, a fire raging, his shoulder sliced. Another dragon, wings in tattered ribbons, her soul long departed. No more jokes. No more laughter. Frang nosed her leg, whimpering.

Corran recognised some of the feelings running through him as what he felt for Tilda and nausea rose. This was Frang’s mate, killed in the war. What he would do to anyone who took Tilda away from him in that way…

Frang skipped over it, directing Corran to the next memory.

He barely registered the idea of revenge. Instead he focused on flying, ignoring the constant painful stinging in his shoulder, a single egg clutched in his claws.
Their last egg, hidden away from humans, hidden away from Baltair’s horde.
He would not abandon his egg. He would stand guard and protect his hatchling–

What happened?

The donkey trotted with Tilda hurrying along beside them. It had never moved so fast before and he ducked down to grab the loose rope and hang on. The trees scattered away on either side, revealing a lake that stretched far out into the distance.

Anguish filled the dragon, painful even for Corran when he was an outsider to it. Was this feeling why Frang had helped him last week when he had been so beaten down?

/I don’t know why I left. I didn’t mean to, I don’t remember why. But I left my body, I abandoned my hatchling
./

Corran wished he could hear some of the sarcasm that he so often found irritating, but there was no humour to be found in Frang.

/I cannot save my hatchling now. But I can take its body and honour it. We have to find it
./

The donkey stopped so suddenly Corran almost vaulted over its head into the lake. He slid off instead, entering the water at Frang’s unspoken direction. He waded in up to his knees and moved towards some of the trees whose roots snaked into the water. The lake was huge but its waters were calm. The egg wouldn’t have moved too much, would it? But so many years had passed, it might have been damaged or lost or washed out far into the depths.

“What does a dragon egg even look like?” Tilda called. She was further out, waist deep and peering into the water.

“Biggest egg you’ve ever seen.
Brown,
looks like it’s got freckles. The surface is rough, all bumpy,” Corran replied, reaching into the memory he had just glimpsed. “He hid it in one of these trees, out of sight…”

Tilda arrived at his side, helping to push aside branches and loose roots.

Which tree was it?

/They’ve all changed, I can’t tell! But it was near here, I’m sure. Keep looking
!/

He plunged his arm into the water, holding a root for support and scraping his fingers through the stones. His bandages were soaked instantly but at least the water seemed clean. He pushed against the bark at the bottom of the tree
trunk in case it had got lodged there. Tilda left to do the same to the next tree along.

He squelched along the bank, peering into the water and trying another tree. With his arm buried in a rotten tree branch, the Wall was in his direct line of vision.

Once as a child he’d seen the Wall in the south while visiting his mother’s family, blocking the border to Harecia. It was smaller than he remembered with the tallest trees looking down on it. Two stout guard stations stood on either side of the lake, daring any Ikjorians to cross over.

/Corran, please
!/

He pulled his arm out and started on to the next tree, not quite able to take his eyes away from the Wall. His mother went on and on about it and how King Rhian’s father had saved so many lives by building it. His father said it was what allowed humans to stop being blackmailed by dragons.

“Corran!”

He slipped as he spun to see Tilda waving at him, an egg cradled in her other arm. Frang lit up inside his head and Corran started towards her.

She fell without warning, splashing down into the water as someone leapt onto her.

“No!”

He raced towards them, water flying in all directions and blinding him to the details of what was going on. The attacker grappled with Tilda. Another figure appeared. She had red marks all up her arms – she was Ikjorian.
Ikjorians in Auland, right next to the Wall, attacking Tilda.

The woman saw him and shouted, kicking Tilda and forcing the egg from her arms. Her partner scooped it up and they scrambled onto dry land just as he reached Tilda.

“The egg, they’ve got the egg!” she gasped. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just the water but she didn’t give him a chance to find out. She used his good arm to haul herself up and pulled them both up onto the grass. He ran side by side with her until she pushed at his back. “Faster!”

The desperation in her voice widened his stride until he was sprinting like he hadn’t in months, leaving her behind as he closed in on the Ikjorians. They were running too in a wide loop of the lake, straight towards the Wall. The guards would catch them there! His body ached, struggling to do what he needed it to if he was going to get that egg back. It was Frang’s egg, not theirs! They’d just been there at the wrong
time,
they had no right to take it! Years of practice helped him keep up despite his injuries.

The Wall loomed closer. They could climb, but arrows would be through them before they were halfway up. They’d have no chance of sneaking through in the water; the lake was the most heavily watched part of the whole Ikjorian border.

They disappeared next to a boulder the Wall had been built around. Corran stumbled to a halt, looking left and right. He strode forward, every muscle tense in case they jumped out at him like they had at Tilda.

“Where did they go?” she gasped, arriving next to him and her head turning even faster than his to look in all directions.

“I… I don’t know. They just disappeared.”

He glanced up the Wall but there were no soldiers on this part. A shudder ran through him as he pressed one hand up against the ivy–covered boulder.

“It was right here. Right… here!” His hand went straight through the ivy. He grabbed a handful, pulling it aside to reveal a dark hole funnelled into the rock. The edges were rough; it
was recent. How recent? How long had Ikjorians been able to get into Auland without anyone knowing? Were they scouting?

“You should go back,” he murmured as he stared into the dark tunnel. It was clear to him he must follow, but the thought of going beyond the Wall rose goosebumps on his arms. How could he drag Tilda into that?

“What? Why would I do that?” she demanded.

“Because this isn’t your fight, because you have a life in Droighair – your father’s there. What about becoming a teacher like him?”

“Corran, I’m not letting you go after them alone.”

“But… I dragged you into this,” he said, his voice quietening under her glare.

“Corran!”

He stared down at her and she stared back with a determined expression.

“I’m from Droighair, just like you said. We’ve dreamt of dragons coming back for years and you think I’m just going to leave you to it? Anyway, I’m not losing you again,” she mumbled. It sounded like an afterthought, but he knew it wasn’t.