The Firebrand Legacy (22 page)

Carine darted to David. His hair flew up at
his forehead, where beads of sweat trickled down the side of his
face. One hand held the gullon blood, the other held his bow. The
cape flapped behind him.

“David!”

He swirled. The moment he saw her registered
as relief, but he didn’t answer. He held his finger to his lips to
quiet her, and darted behind a leafless bush.

Carine followed. “Don’t do this,” she
whispered.

He ignored her, peeking over the bush to
check for Heartless Ones.

“The cape isn’t fireproof,” she said.

His face snapped in her direction. “What?”
David looked her over. “No, you’re trying to scare me off.”

“I’m telling the truth!” She grabbed his
forearm. “Please, David. I only told you that it was fireproof so
that you’d give the gullon blood to me.”

“Why?”

“So that…so that you wouldn’t try to heal
Kavariel. You’ll get killed out there, David.”

“You are a terrible person,” David said,
glaring at her under his bushy eyebrows. He stood and bolted to the
next leafless bush, a web of interwoven twigs.

She ran after him. “No, I’m your friend.”

He twirled, standing where anyone could see
them. “How can I be friends with you, huh?”

“I’ll tell you the truth,” she said, pulling
him down behind the partial shelter. “I’ll tell you everything.
Let’s just get away from here, okay? Before we both get
killed.”

“No. It’s now or never, Carine.”

“Where do I start? Okay, the cloak isn’t
fireproof. That’s for sure. It’s just a normal cloth that will burn
to ash if you—”

“What else?”

“Don’t do this, because you and Giles are my
friends, and I don’t have many of those.”

“As my friend,” David said, eyes softening,
“you should understand why I have to do this. Do you?” The dragon
roared, shrieking loud and high in the water. Steam plumed up as
the attack raged on. Tears sparkled in David’s eyes.

Carine threw her head back. “I don’t want you
to die.”

He forced a smile. “Me neither.” It was nice
to see his smile after bearing the brunt of his anger for so long.
“Believe me, if there was any other way to do this, I would.”

A burst of heat blasted through the bush.
Carine shuddered, and with fingers shaking, she fished through her
pocket for the drawstring bag.

“What are you doing?” David said.

She found the protection stone—careful not to
touch the words—and held it in her palm. “There’s something else I
haven’t quite been honest about…”

“Firebrand’s heir is your dad? And you only
just found out about it?”

“Shh!”

“He killed Limly—and almost killed me!”

“I know, but it’s not totally his fault, you
know,” she said. “You heard Ansa: mispronunciation becomes
addictive once you have the dragon blood in your system. It wasn’t
the best way to go about it, but Didda lied and did everything else
to protect me.”

David snorted. “Like you lied and stole to
protect me.”

The comparison hit like a punch in the gut.
“That was not the best way for me to go about it, either.” She
scanned the trees for Didda, feeling that she’d lost track of him
for too long, feeling vulnerable. “Let’s move.”

Carine led David to another bush, closer to
the Heartless Ones. Those that mumbled approached the dragon,
stepping past Heartless Ones’ bodies that lay burned or
extinguished in the field.

David thought a moment. “Wait. If your father
got the dragon blood from his father that means you must have it
too.”

“I think it does,” she whispered, wishing she
had thought to pick up the torch when she passed Giles.

“Well, don’t use it! Don’t mispronounce.”

“I won’t. And this is my secret. You can’t
tell anyone.” She leveled David with her stare.

“I won’t.”

“What this means is that maybe…” She didn’t
want to say it. She didn’t want to make this terrifying thought a
reality. She didn’t want to do more than the feat of capturing that
needed flame. But long term, Navafort needed her to. David needed
her to. “Maybe I can heal the dragon.”

“Not a chance. You’ll mispronounce. Don’t be
like Luzhiv for a second.”

The dragon opened his mouth toward the sky,
rearing in pain. Long, sharp teeth lined his mouth.

“I won’t mispronounce. I’m going to use the
protection stone, the way my granddad did with the leaf that said
order
on it. Look, I’m offering to heal the dragon for you.
It’s not like I want to do this.”

“I go either way.” David pulled the gullon
blood from her.

“Are you kidding? I’m not even sure if it’ll
work. If you go, then both of us could end up dead.”

“So be it. I have the gullon blood, and I
won’t give it up.”

“You are…you are an idiot, David.”

He snorted. “How sweet: if we die, those will
be the last words I ever hear.”

“Follow my lead.”

Carine stood, exposing her location to any
Heartless Ones, to Didda, and to the dragon. She had previously
thought that she understood the enormous scale of the beast. But
its head, which rested on the charred earth, was taller than twice
her height. Its eye was as wide as her torso. Kavariel was so warm
that steam rose from the healing pool.

“Is there a plan?” David asked.

Carine had thought that Selius was the
epitome of heartlessness. But the men, fauns, centaurs, and other
creatures stared blankly, terribly at their foe.

“Don’t stop running,” she said and bolted
into the open field. David ran after her.

A Heartless One took notice.

The second Carine grabbed David’s arm, her
fingers had already wrapped around the Manakor word of protection.
What felt like steam swelled up inside her searing heart and
organs. Carine crumpled to the ground, not releasing David’s
arm.

The Heartless One, a faun with a gray smock
and red ribbons, muttered something. Pebbles and

dirt swirled from under their feet, but it
did not pellet them as the Heartless One intended for it to do. The
particles ebbed out and in, as though attempting to break through,
but any time something hit their skin or clothes, it dissolved from
existence as if it had never been.

Kneeling, Carine saw David’s eyes filled with
wonder as he watched the swirling earth. Suddenly, the pebbles
fell. The Heartless One seemed to have given up on them and turned
instead to the dragon.

Carine dropped the wishstone from her
grasp.

“Carine, are you okay? That was…amazing.”

She coughed, clutching her heart. “I can’t do
that again,” she said, feeling tears in her eyes. She coughed
again, sputtering.

“Yes, you have to.”

“It hurts…like… dying.” The words came out in
gasps.

David pulled her to her feet. “We’re so
close, just one more time”

The dragon spewed a stream of bright orange
fire.

Carine screamed. “Of course I can see that
we’re close!”

David paused, and then put his hand on her
shoulder. “Thank you for protecting me from the Heartless Ones.
You’ve done a great thing for Navafort. I’ll see you on the other
side.” With that, he kissed her cheek and started pulling away.

But Carine had his wrist. “Oh no you don’t,”
she said with what little breath she had. “We’re in this
together.”

She inhaled, focusing again on the dragon,
not

ready to run this time but ready to walk
toward his fiery mouth.

“
Stop!
” The wind and motion nearly
muffled Didda’s command. “Do not approach that dragon.”

David swirled around to see who had spoken.
“It’s the heir of Firebrand, your dad.”

She yanked his arm. “Come on.”

Across the dragon, Giles raised the torch to
a tree. The top of the torch blazed as it caught. This was what
they had come here for. No matter what happened to Carine and
David, Navafort would get that flame and have one year of peace,
one year to protect itself from the Heartless Ones with Kavariel
dead.

The dragon rolled his head, as if seeing
Carine and David approach. Carine gripped David’s hand tighter and
nearly stepped back. Had Kavariel seen Louise before she’d died?
Had Louise seen his big, wise eye?

“Stop, Carine! Please!” Didda begged.

She didn’t, and a moment later, the bare
earth bubbled at her feet. Carine fell inches into liquefied
earth.

David struggled to move. “I’m stuck.”

The ground hardened around their calves. They
bent over, digging with their nails. Didda came up behind them,
muttering Manakor.

“Stop it,” Carine cried. “Let me do this,
Didda. We have to!”

Didda shook his head. “I can’t stop speaking
the language. I told you that. I also told you that we were going
home.” He whispered a word, and the surcoat of David’s collar
tightened around his throat. David’s hands flew to his neck as the
fabric and chainmail twisted.

“Let him go,” Carine said.

“You leave me no choice, Carine. If he’s the
reason you’re getting this close to the dragon”—they ducked as a
burst of heat exploded behind them—“then you’d better rethink your
priorities.”

“This isn’t you, Didda.” She scratched at the
ground. The dirt, like dust, gave way to her clawing, just enough
to release one leg. She started with the other.

David pulled at his collar. The vial and the
bow had fallen beside him.

Didda’s graying hair was wild in the wind. He
had dirt and ash on his cloak, the cloak that Mom and she had
mended so many times. His worn face carried a grief that Carine had
only glimpsed in the years following the death of Louise. His eyes
sparkled sadly. “Come home.”

He stretched out his hand, muttering as the
dirt that trapped her other leg moved away and released her.
David’s face was turning blue where he stood trapped in the
earth.

Didda moved his fingers, welcoming her to
take his hand.

A hundred feet behind him, Giles circled the
field with a flaming torch raised to the heavens. The dragon
emitted a fiery breath, and just as Giles passed a Heartless One
with the torch, the Heartless One fell over, extinguished. He ran
behind Didda as well, but Didda didn’t fall.

“What are you looking at?” Didda turned, just
in time to see confusion sweep across Giles’ face. Giles dropped
the torch and barreled forward, sword drawn.

“No!” Carine shoved Didda out of the way just
in time to confuse Giles. He didn’t strike, but Didda did.

Giles dropped his sword as his collar gripped
his neck like a vice.

David crumpled, choking.

“You’re killing them!” Carine shouted.

Didda snapped. “Is that what it will take?
This won’t be over until you step away from the dragon.”

Tears fell from David’s eyes.

All at once, Carine remembered the wishstone.
She dug it from her pocket and squeezed her fingers to the words.
This time, she anticipated the pain. It coursed through her body
like molten metal. She writhed as David finally gasped for breath.
He braced himself on the ground as color returned to his cheeks.
Giles coughed too and stood straight, though he didn’t know what
had cured him.

“What are you doing?” Didda said, but Carine
couldn’t bring herself to answer. It took all her concentration not
to let go.

Didda muttered something again, to no effect.
He darted a furious glance at his daughter and muttered again.

“Whatever you’re doing isn’t working,” Giles
spat. His helmet shone in the sunlight. His surcoat fell smooth
over his chainmail, and his steady, thin lips conveyed the gravity
of his determination. He raised his long sword of shimmering metal,
and speared Didda’s side, the blade sliding into Didda’s skin.

Didda doubled over, and Carine released the
stone. She hadn’t thought to protect her father too. Carine took a
breath and picked the wishstone up again, but her wish didn’t
protect him retroactively. Didda clutched the wound.

Carine stretched out her hand to Giles, who
lifted his sword for another strike. “Leave him alone. He won’t
hurt us. Get the flame and eliminate the Heartless Ones.”

Giles clenched his jaw, but looking over her
shoulder, he must have seen another Heartless One coming, because
he turned and retrieved his torch.

Didda, weak and suffering, met her eyes. “I
did this for you,” he said.

She swallowed. “Hang in there. We’ll be right
back.”

“Please,” Didda begged, “you’re all we have
left.”

Heart breaking, Carine turned. Didda would
live if he could hold on long enough for her to dip him into the
healing pool.

She pulled David’s sleeve. “Come on.”

Through the steam and the swirling gold that
pelted in turns from the air, the dragon seemed largely at rest,
motionless to alleviate the pain. The air around him wasn’t only
hot, it was damp too, and walking closer felt like entering a
sauna.

David followed Carine with only one shoe. The
other hadn’t come out of the ground. Didda screamed her name from
where he lay crumpled on the earth, but Carine couldn’t stop now.
The earth burst before them. Gold showered their heads like hail.
Turning, Carine saw that it was still Didda, using his last ounces
of energy to stop them.

“I’m going to hold onto your arm, okay?”
Carine said. “I want to make sure that you get protected too.”

David nodded, and Carine saw the wonder in
his eyes. “It’s incredible.”

The dragon moved a wrinkling, scaly neck,
swinging his terrifying head before them. His nostrils were like
caves. Kavariel sniffed, and hot wind stirred their clothes. Carine
trembled, her whole body warm and quaking. She clamped down on the
wishstone.

“David,” she said, “get your bow.”

But David didn’t move. He stood transfixed as
Kavariel watched them through the steam. The creature itself was
amazing: huge but present, powerful but understanding. The eyes,
bulbous and shining blue, searched her as though seeing her
soul.