The Last Dragon Chronicles: The Fire Ascending (12 page)

My thoughts about the child dissolved. How should I answer the sibyl’s question?

I   felt   the   Fain   coming   into   myconsciousness again, like a timid sheeppoking its head above a wall.
 
Do notspeak about Galen
, they said.

But if I lied, I felt sure the sibyl wouldknow. “I… I saw one die once.”

A piece of loose wood tumbled out ofthe fire. Gwilanna paused before snuffingout the fizzing embers. “Did you findfraas?”

I shook my head.

“Well, if you had, you might not beasking how imagineering works.”

“You need dragon auma to imagineer?”

“No, boy, you need to be one with Gaia. And nothing achieves that quite likea dragon.”

After a pause I said, “I honour dragons

and respect the Earth spirit.”

“Then you can imagineer,” she said.

“Will you teach me this wisdom?”

“Perhaps. If you serve me well.”

“And if I don’t?” I glanced at the skull.

“Fear not, boy. I doubt you could do me nearly enough harm to warrant ending up like that.”

“Who was she?”

“How do you know it was a she?”

I looked again. I was guessing, but… “The   skull   is   small.”  And  mostly undamaged, but blackened round the mouth and eyes, perhaps burned.

Gwilanna poked the fire. “Well, it’s none of your business.”

Be careful
, said the Fain.
 
Do not provoke her wrath.

But I couldn’t help myself. I sensed acurious connection to these bones, as if I’dbeen part of this person’s story. “Whowas she?”

“I said it’s
 
not
 
your business.”

“What did she do to become like this?”

“She was—” The sibyl turned angrily. For one moment, I thought I saw grief in her eyes. And I was sure I’d heard a whisper from the mouth of the skull, like the swish inside a hand cupped close to the ear. “The skull…  belonged to my

mother,” she said.

There was a terrible, terrible coldness in her voice that half-inclined me to speak of something else. But now I had begun, I had to pursue this. “Is it a charm? Was she a sibyl, like you?”

“No,” she replied, short and to the point.

If not a charm, then, a souvenir? I had heard of people keeping the ashes of their loved ones after death. Was Gwilanna

shading the truth a little? Could these sockets have once been filled by the actual face of her mother? The thought of it made me shudder. What kind of person, even a sibyl, kept the skull of a parent on show?

“Where was she from – your mother?”

Gwilanna thrust the stick into the fire

and left it. “Why would a hill boy want to

know?”

I was struggling to say. But some kindof powerful auma was drawing me closerand closer to the skull. “What was her

name? Tell me her name.”

The sibyl met my gaze. “Who
 
are
 
you?”she growled.

Her answer came from a shout near the

cave mouth: “Gwilanna! Agawin! Come

quickly! Come quickly!”

“
Agawin?
” Despite the low light, I saw her eyes pinch.

I took note of her shocked expression, but I had no chance to question it then. I sat up sharply, triggered by Galen. All my senses were tuning to an auma source outside the caves. I had the oddest feeling that I could travel through the rocks to reach it if I tried, dissolving through the particles that held them together to reappear smoothly on the other side. But in the end, my exit was much more conventional. I simply leaped up and

sprinted for the opening.

“Look!” Guinevere beckoned me to her

the moment I emerged. She pointed to the sky where an eagle was circling.

I cupped a hand above my eyes to block out the sun. “What’s it carrying?” There

was   something  between   its   talons. Something large.

“An egg,” she said.

I squinted again. “How can it be? Eagles don’t carry their eggs.”

“Then there is not an eagle inside it,” said Gwilanna, who had come out onto the hillside with us.

She is right
, said the Fain. They werebuzzing like a nest of summer bees.
 
Theauma wave is almost too strong for us tobear
.

“It’s a dragon egg,” I breathed, as

Galen locked onto it.

One of great power
, the Fain reported.

“It’s coming down,” said Guinevere. “Itlooks exhausted.” She started tying up hermane of hair, in readiness to run to theeagle’s aid.

“It’s hatching,” I muttered. “The egg ishatching.”

She paused and looked across at me. “How can you tell?”

I could see it as Galen expanded myvision. Cracks were developing all overthe shell. A rivulet of bright green fluidseeped out and flowed around the eagle’sfoot like a vine. There was a flash of light,and for several moments the bird was lit

in a halo of rapidly-changing colours.

Twice it tossed its head and squawked. Itswing beats faltered. But it didn’t drop the

egg.

“Come on,” urged Guinevere. “We’ve got to help it.”

“No.” The sibyl pulled her back.

“But it needs us, Gwilanna. It’s—”

“Let the boy see to it.”

The sibyl jutted her chin and away I went, with the breeze at my back, feeling for all the world like I might fly. I skidded to a stop a good distance from the caves. The bird flapped down, arching its golden-brown wings for balance. With another soft squawk it released the egg, which rolled against a tuft of grass and stopped. A few pieces of the shell had become detached. Through the gaps, I

could see the young dragon struggling.

The eagle sensed me then. It turned and opened its bright yellow beak, warning me off with a fierce spray of spittle. Despite its fatigue, it stood up tall with its talons forward, spreading its wings to their fullest extent. The white tips of its feathers were glowing, in peace. But in the beaded orange eyes there was only conflict. It would fight to the death to protect its cargo. I understood plainly. And so did Galen.

The muscles in my throat adjustedagain. The words, when they came, burnedthe roof of my mouth and seemed to rip theinner lining from my lungs. But they wereeffective. This is what I said:

“I am the spirit of the dragon, Galen.

Lord of Kasgerden and the land beyond. Your work is done. You will deliver this

wearling to me.”

The eagle shuddered. It was almost spent. “I am Gideon,” it panted. “I have travelled far. I was sent to find shelter by the queen, Gawaine. This is her only surviving son.”

A pitiful growl bubbled up in my throat. Gawaine. I knew the name, of course, and it was clear that Galen did too. His

sorrow swept through me like a burst of rain. “Is the queen dead?”

“No,” said Gideon. “She was attacked and had to enter stasis, helped by a healing horse. One of her eggs was stolen and destroyed. Her auma has been transferred to this one… ”

With that, the eagle collapsed. Onceagain, a strange light flashed around him. He twitched a few times and curled his

toes. I put out a hand and stroked his feathers. The auma of the dragon he’d carried for so long instantly began to commingle with me. There was a spark inside him, absorbed from the egg. He was going to live – and he was going to transform. But for now, all he would do was sleep.

A quiet skrike turned my attention to the dragon. I knelt and sat the egg in my hands. A head had just poked out, with a jagged piece of shell still attached to it. A foot broke through, then a whipping tail. Slowly, I pulled each piece away until all that was left was a baby dragon, covered

in a film of slippery gloop. It skriked again and wobbled its wings.

This is the son of Gawaine
, said Galen. In his roughened tongue it sounded like this: ‘Guh-wen’.

And he unveiled to me the way heroffspring should be named. Traditionally,in dragon culture, a first born son wasnamed after its mother.

And so I called the wearling Gawain.

‘Guh-wane.’

And Galen approved of this.

Guinevere could not hold back anylonger. She came sprinting to my side,only to have her attention divided betweenthe little dragon and its weary guardian. Eventually, she knelt at Gideon’s side. Ina craking voice she attempted to speak to

him. His eyes remained closed, his wings still. “I think he’s dying, Agawin. We should take him to the caves. Gwilanna

might be able to – uh-oh. This isn’t good.”

I followed her gaze and saw we had company. Along the hill, poking its snout into the air, was a large brown bear. It had a look of cheery wonder in its deep-set eyes, and massive strength in its bulky paws. It sat up tall and squinted at us. My skin tightened all over my body – the equivalent, I guessed, of a dragon’s scales lifting.

“That’s a young male. They’re trouble,” said Guinevere.

“Tell it to stay back. You said you

could talk to them.”

“The old ones – the wise ones – yes.

He’s curious. He could be a serious

threat.”

I closed my hands round the dragon tokeep him stable. “Do we run?”

“Only if you want his claws in yourback.”

The bear dropped down again andpadded forward.

“What do we do? We’re a long wayfrom the caves. Why isn’t Gwilannahelping us?”

“I don’t know, but she’s never likedbears.”

“What’s that got to do with it? She’s not the one who’s about to get mauled!”

This is a test
, said the Fain.
 
The sibyl is waiting to see what you do
 
.

The bear snorted and tossed its head. I

felt Galen measuring the sway of its shoulders, judging its strength, agility and pace. Bones began to click all around my face as though he wanted to unlatch my jaw. Surely he couldn’t make fire in me? One belch would fry my brain to my skull.

Guinevere stood up with Gideon in her arms. “We need to distract it, but my fain is still weak after making the pen.”

“Your fain?”

“A term we use when we imagineer constructs. It means… a higher way of thinking. A deeper, more focused form of concentration.”

Can we do this?
 
I said to the Fain in

me.

All living creatures are capable of it.

But?
 
I sensed a definite ‘but’.

Your intent must be strong. You mustform the image clearly and you must not

waver.

The bear had broken into a lollopingtrot. The thought of being crushed in itsbrawny grip was beginning to sharpen myintent   well   enough.   A   believabledistraction. I had an idea. “What do theyeat?”

“Sorry?”

“Bears, Guinevere. What do they
 
eat
?”

“Us, if we don’t get out of here.” She backed away up the hill.

“No, I mean what’s their normal diet?”

“Berries. Any form of bright berries.”

“All right. Keep moving. If this doesn’t work, I’ll let Gawain go.”

Gawain?
 
she mouthed.

I nodded at the dragon. Its scalene eyeshad just blinked open – amber gems infolds of green. I prayed they would neverget close enough to see the bright pinklining of a brown bear’s mouth. “I knowthey can fly soon after birth. He’ll getaway – and you can take care of him.” Istopped walking and squeezed my eyesshut.

“Agawin, what are you doing?”

“Imagineering.” I pictured a bush sprouting out of the hillside. A green bush, laden with shining red berries, glistening with   early-morning   dew.   The   Fain sharpened the image and Galen flowed his auma into it. But what made the thought materialise strongest of all was a burst of energy from the young dragon himself. I

felt no physical sensation of his help, no tingling in the hands or pulsing in the head, but for one intense indescribable moment, when all of time seemed to come together and light itself seemed to bend to my will, I saw the vastness of the universe as a

great sheet of energy. A limitless field of interconnected forces from which I could

draw down any information I required and shape it into any form I liked: instantly.

I heard Guinevere gasp. When I opened my eyes, there was the bush, just as I’d imagined it. I had created a construct, straight out of my mind. The bear blinked twice, then with a grunt sat down to graze the berries.

And that surprised Guinevere even

more. “He’s swallowing them.”

Wasn’t that the point? To make himfeed? “I hope they don’t poison him.” Ihad given little thought to the type ofberry, still less to what they might tastelike.