The Last Dragon Chronicles: The Fire Ascending (29 page)

But he was strong and he’d pulled the

thing free in seconds. I scrabbled along the beam for a closer look. Stygg’s eyes popped as he unravelled the material. For he’d found not one, but two fine tapestries. And a new Taan dress.

The first tapestry was the image of Gawaine in flight, the one Eleanor hadgiven to me in the krofft and I had carriedthrough the Skoga forest. The other wasthe Isenfier tapestry, complete.

“Aar… ” breathed Stygg, as if he’dfound a pure gold nugget in his teeth. “This be a pretty thing alright.” He waslooking at the roaring image of Gawaine. The Isenfier tapestry didn’t impress him.

But he did like the dress. He let it

dangle from his arm. A golden robe, fit for

his beloved.

His tongue squeezed out like a slug

between his teeth.

“Stygg, this is all I have of home,” Grella begged. She stumbled forward and fell at his feet. “Give the tapestries back. I can make others like them.”

“Nah,” he grunted, with a shake of his head. “Stygg be doin’ good trade fer these.”

“Please, Stygg. You can’t take them.

You can’t.”

“You ’iding any more?” He jabbed his

knife.

“No,” she said, turning Gwilanna from the blade. The baby cried louder still. The kachina doll dropped to the floor of the barn.

“What’s squawkin’ that babby?!” Griss

called out.

Stygg grunted. A fair impression of hispig. “Tell ’ee what. Stygg cud trade wiv Grella?”

“Trade?” She looked horrified. “What

would I want of yours?”

His eyes ran the length of the dress once more. “This be right pretty to be wedded in.”

“Wedded?”

“Aar.” His dumb eyes glinted with hope. He brushed his fringe aside, as if he might appear more handsome to her.

Grella struggled to keep her revulsion at bay. “I wed you and you’ll let me have the tapestries back?”

He nodded. “Aar.”

She closed her eyes and gulped.

“You’ll take me out of these chains as

well?”

He chewed a fat mole that was growingon his lip.

“Build us a shack to hang the tapestriesin?”

He scratched a black spider off his

neck.

“Take me away from here? Away from

Griss?”

His left eye twitched. His shoulders

shook.

“You’d care for my baby? You’d treat

her as—?”

“I don’t be knowin’!” he cried. She’d

rattled him now. He threw the dress down.

Within seconds, the mice and the licewere at it.

“You don’t be knowin’ what, you

loaf?” his mother called.

“Nowt!” Stygg shouted. “I not be knowin’ nowt!” He tucked both tapestries into his robe. “You be sayin’ no words to Ma ’bout this or I be soakin’ my blade wi’ yer rynkler’s blood.” He bent down and picked up the kachina doll. For one moment, I thought he would take that as well. But he threw it in the crib and

backed away. “I’ll be thinkin’ on our weddin’ night, I will.” And he curled his tongue and licked the black streak of blood off his knife.

“No!” I gasped.

The fire stars brought me back to the

window.

Joseph immediately said, “You have

witnessed a terrible thing. It’s recorded in the Is that Stygg has a trace of Voss inside him. This is the beginning of the end for the Nomad.”

“Does he kill her?” I couldn’t believe

what I’d seen. Stygg could now be capable of all kinds of wickedness.

Joseph studied his fingernails. “You can stop any time you want to, Agawin.”

Having come this far? And not seen the truth? “Have I learned what I need to

know about Gwilanna?”

“No. Not until the very end.”

“Then I have to go back. I must know what happened.” I looked at the timeline and thought about Stygg. A fresh group of stars began to sparkle. Once again, I reached into the Is.

Within days, the eremitt was losing hismind. He began to argue with anyone nearhim, crashing dementedly around the shackas if a weevil had burrowed under his

scalp. He shouted at corners, challenged shadows to fights. I watched him splash his face in the water trough, then push the trough over and scream at the moon. The turning point came when he bit a villhund. He’d been stomping round the barn with a rope in his mouth – chewing it as though it were a roll of bread – when he happened to see a rogue dog stalking the pig. He picked up a chain and whipped the dog’s back. The villhund was swift to get even. With one bite it ripped off the Nomaad’s toe (the big one that pointed through a hole in Stygg’s boot). A howl as long as the

great Horste river came pouring out of the

eremitt’s throat.

Then it got serious.

The villhund had no hope. Any sensibledog would have run with the toe, spat outthe nail and enjoyed (if that werepossible) the corn-ridden flesh. Instead,the hound dropped it and dived in again,hoping to get a whole foot this time. In ablood-curdling act of retaliation, Styggfell upon its neck, sinking his teeth far intothe juiciest part of its throat. The dogjerked, gave a rasp and immediately wentlimp. Its yellow eyes rolled. It faded intodeath. Stygg drew back, shuddering alittle. A dark light burned in his vacanteyes. Blood and fur was stuck around hismouth. He bit again. He ripped. He

swallowed. I thanked the universe I’d

seen far worse on my Travels or I might have caused my poor host squirrel to vomit.

When she saw the wretched dog, even Griss was appalled. Grella, out ofgoodness or pity or both, tried to warn thecrone that Stygg was changed. Grisswould not listen. She accused Stygg ofdrinking mushroom juice, a common causeof coarse behaviour among the lonely menof Nomaad. “Gettee gone and do sumtradin’!” she barked, pushing him and hisblood-spurting foot towards the trees. Shekicked his backside soundly for histrouble. For the first time in his life Styggturned on his mother, snarling as brutallyas the dog he had slain. “Gettee gone,” she

rapped again, completely unaware of the danger she was in. He lunged at her, but just a second too late. The door had slammed shut against his slavering mouth.

Stygg tumbled down the steps that led to the porch. He rolled over, beat the ground and picked himself up. But instead of getting to his feet as normal, he righted himself on all four limbs. Swaying a little, he shuddered again. Then a strange transformation began to take hold of him. His spiky black hair extended down his back and fur began to thicken on his arms and legs. The boot with the hole in it split around the seam. Claws burst out where

his toes should have been. His other foot

and fingers went the same way. There was little change to his upper body, and his

robe, despite ripping, covered him still. But Stygg was not a man any more. With one more horrible bone-cracking twist his face took on the shape of a villhund.

He roared at the moon and ran for the

trees.

I quickly came back to the librariumagain.

By now I had discovered I could askthe Is to filter the stars on different levels.

If I instructed the matrix to compare thearrays of two individuals, the stars wouldchange   colour   where   their   livesoverlapped. The colours gave no clue tothe nature of the incidents, but significantevents always showed up strongly. Thelast   few   stars   of   Grella’s   arrayoverlapped with Stygg’s, which warned

me that her fate was tied up with his. But what about Rune? Was he involved? The

Is moved in its strange, mysterious wayand produced a new, and even morecomplex, array. Nearly all of the starsstretched into Grella’s past and her longfamily life with Rune and Eleanor. But afew of Rune’s hovered over her future.

And nearly all intersected with the lastdays of Stygg.

I touched one of those.

I   materialised   at   night   in   athunderstorm, on muddy ground served bya scrubby patch of trees. Rain wasdrumming down, puddling the dirt. Upahead, I heard the splash of a hoof,followed by the whinny of a horse beingturned.

“What is it?” said a voice.

“Thought I heard something.” Rune of Taan glanced over his shoulder. His hair was plastered to his face in strands. His brow had gained a new furrow or two, but this was definitely the man I’d met in the krofft.

The second man turned his horse. He

was Taan also. I’d seen him at the

motested, but I didn’t know his name. “Is that a katt?” he said, leaning forward in the saddle.

A scraggy excuse for one, yes. My newhost had been huddled up under a bush,trying to find what shelter it could. I’dmade it step out into the rain and its wailof dissent had reached Rune’s ears.

Spitting water off his lips, he looked

around. “Where there’s a katt, there’s usually a hovel.”

“There,” said the second man, pointing.

Rune narrowed his eyes to a squint and saw it. A single-storey shack, held together by crossed, nailed planking. Faint yellow candlelight flickered inside.

Rune tugged on his reins. “Let’s go and introduce ourselves.”

The horses walked forward. As theyapproached the primitive doorway, thesecond man let Rune go on alone.

Rune stopped his horse and bellowedthrough the rain. “You, inside. Whoeveryou are. I am Rune Haakunen, from thedistrict of Taan. I seek shelter for myselfand one companion.”

I saw the companion lower his hand. It

came to rest on the hilt of a sword.

There was a pause that seemed like theend of time. The door opened a crack. Aface peered out. “No sheltur ’ere. Ain’t noroom to dizzy a katt. Be goin’. I want notruck with Taans.”

“We’re soaked and we’ve travelled

far,” said Rune.

“No room,” said the Nomaad. The door

began to close.

“We have money.”

A spike of lightning divided the night.

As thunder clapped, the door creaked

open.

Rune reached into a purse at his belt. A silver coin tumbled through the moonlit air. It landed in the mud with a tidy splat. The eremitt was out like a ferret. His hand

splashed around and fished it out. He looked at it and rubbed it and bit it to be

sure.

“Silvur,” he said.

“For one night,” said Rune, nodding at

the door.

The man pulled his shabby rags aroundhim. “There be two o’ yer.”

Rune threw back his hair. The wet ends

slapped against his riding jacket. “Very well. Two kroat.” He produced another coin and rested it on the nail of his thumb.

The eremitt hopped and got ready to catch. But as Rune made to flip it he paused andsaid, “And food. Two kroat buys usshelter
 
and
 
food.”

The eremitt wiped his blue-veinednose. “Ain’t got no food. Water. Thassall.

Jus’ water, an’ a place to lie.”

“I’ve got a skyful of water,” Rune saidplainly. The rain was finding channels allover his face. “Bread. You give us bread,we pay two kroat.”

The man sniffed and made a grizzlingnoise. “One pull. Thassall.” (He meantone hunk ripped off a long loaf.) “An’ Idoes the pullin’.”

Rune’s horse snorted. He tugged hisreins and considered the offer. “Verywell. One pull and a place to lie.” Heflipped the second coin.

It tumbled into the Nomaad’s grasp. Hebit into that one also. Satisfied it was

genuine silver, he pushed the coin into a pocket of his rags and cautiously widened his   doorway.   While  Rune  and  his

companion tied their horses, I crept forward and managed to slip inside the shack, narrowly avoiding the eremitt’s kick. There were empty rabbit traps everywhere   and   foul-smelling   skins hanging out to dry. No fire and only one grungy fur, which the eremitt draped around his shoulders. He swept some loose traps into one corner, giving me a place to hide and watch. As Rune stepped in, the eremitt pointed to the space he’d made. It was barely wide enough for one man’s bed, let alone two stocky travellers from Taan. None of this seemed to

concern Rune much. He peered around, ignoring the eremitt’s grunts. Right away, he found what he was looking for. On a wall of the shack, pinned above a table

knocked together from branches and barrels, was one of Grella’s tapestries.

Rune was there in three slow strides.

His fingers trembled as he touched thecloth. It was another of Stygg outside theshack – a pack of villhund crowding roundhim begging for what looked like the legof a pig. Grella had drawn the setting sunthrowing its amber rays onto the roof. “Afine piece of work,” Rune Haakunenmuttered, doing well to control his rage. “How did you come by this?”

The eremitt wiped his scratchy mouth. His nerves were as high as the grim scentof rabbit. “You be wantin’ that bread