The Last Dragon Chronicles: The Fire Ascending (33 page)

David touched his thumb to his lips. “When Elizabeth Pennykettle taught me your legend, Agawin’s name was never mentioned, but Thoran’s definitely was.”

“So will I see him again – Agawin, I mean?”

David looked into her eyes. “I don’t

know.”

Guinevere   nodded   but   made   no

comment. She checked Thoran’s wound

again. The thorn had snapped off between two of his pads. Golden-coloured pustules were starting to appear all around the entry point. “The thorn has been tipped with nightshade,” she said. “There’s a trace that hasn’t entered his paw.” The bear groaned as she laid his foot down. “I’ll need to gather leaves to make a healing poultice. Did I hear you say Gretel could make him sleep?”

David nodded at Gretel, who quickly took some flowers from a quiver at her back and wafted them under Thoran’s

nostrils. Within seconds, the bear had

slumped sideways.

“Look after him. I won’t be long.” Guinevere jumped up and ran into the woods.

When she was clear of them Rosa

whispered, “Now what happens to this crazy timeline? You can’t tell me Gretel was around a zillion years ago to nurse… why do I want to say ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’?”

“It’s from a book. One of Alexa’s

favourites. You’re picking up Zanna’s memories again. Winnie’s a bear. And
 
this
 
bear is Ingavar’s ancestor, remember. Part of him is in me. Try to have a bit more respect.”

“Just answer the question.”

“It doesn’t matter how the bear is saved

as long as Guinevere’s influence is

dominant. What’s crucial is that she

strengthens the bond between them, so he’ll come to her aid when she needs him

at the island.” He stroked one of Thoran’s

small brown ears. “Gretel, remove the

thorn.”

Shrugging her shoulders, the potionsdragon fluttered down and studied thewound. With a quick burst of fire sheburned down the pustules and cauterizedthe flesh. Then, with an accurate pinch,she pulled the thorn out whole.

“But if Gwilanna’s somewhere else in

time,” Rosa pressed, “he won’t have a

reason to
 
be
 
at the island. It’s because of

her that he swims out to sea with

Guinevere. If Gwilanna’s not around, will Guinevere even catch Gawain’s fire tear,

let alone drop it into the ocean?”

“She has to,” David muttered, “or Scuffenbury is lost. We’ll have no ice cap and we’ll have no bears. No Liz, no Lucy… ” He glanced at Gretel. “No Pennykettle dragons. Maybe no me.”

Gretel pretended not to hear that.
 
Hrrr
, she said, to alert them to the fact that Guinevere was coming back.

Rosa looked up and saw Guinevere running through the trees, clutching a handful of spongy green leaves. But as the girl broke fully into the clearing, the world seemed to tilt and motion slowed

and all colour became a blur of grey. The effect only lasted a moment. But when Rosa shook her head and her vision

cleared, she saw not Guinevere coming

towards her but a small pack of longlegged, thin-faced dogs.

“David!” she screamed. By then the first dog was flying through the air. Rosa fell back with her hands instinctively clamped to its throat, its gritty fur chafing the centres of her palms. It was lean and bony with little forward thrust, but the sight of blood on its needle-like fangs was a powerful aid to Rosa’s grip. How long she could hold it, she couldn’t be sure. The beast had a frenzied desire to kill, and the putrid stench from its open throat was rapidly   making   her   insides   fold. Grimacing, she turned her face aside and screamed for David again. Saliva dripped onto her exposed neck. Claws paddled and tore at her clothing. In a moment of

panic it suddenly occurred to her she could not reach the mark on her arm and

thereby save herself with magicks. Of greater concern was the feeling that the mark might not be there, for she couldn’t sense Zanna in her consciousness now, only   Rosa,   the   orphan   girl   from Co:pern:ica, who had stepped through fire to enter this world and who could, at any moment, die in it.

Then David came to the rescue. With a

mighty thump, the dog was sent flying into the tree tops, batted away by the paw of the bear he called Ingavar. One more was bitten and another mauled. Any more with any sense faded into the woods.

David switched back to human form

and knelt down quickly beside Rosa. “Did

it scratch you? Are you hurt?” He scanned her body. Some clothing was torn but she appeared unscathed.

She sat up and threw her arms around him. She was breathing too fast, but still managing to speak. “Tell me this is all just a horrible dream and we can go home to Co:pern:ica and put some books in order.”

He placed his hand on the back of her head and let his mouth come to rest on the

fabric of her top. Resisting the urge to kiss her, he said, “You’re safe, now. That’s all that matters.”

But it wasn’t. And she had to tell him.

“I can’t feel Zanna any more.” She glanced along her arm. The mark was gone. With it, she sensed some hope had,

too.

She felt him sway. Her grip tightened alittle. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I feel… strange.”

Momentarily, she closed her eyes. Thenshe pulled away, stroking one hand downhis arm as if she needed to convince

herself he was still real. “What happened just now? One moment Guinevere was running   towards   me,   then   those horrible…
 
things
 
appeared.”

“Wolves,” he said. “At least, they used to be.”

She stared at the corpse that Ingavarhad mauled. During the attack she hadseen very little of the creature’s face, onlyits jaws and high pointed ears. Now sheunderstood what David meant. Part of the

memories she’d gathered from Zanna

contained images of things Zanna called ‘grotesques’, ugly stone figures built onto churches.   This   wolf  bore   a   mild

resemblance to them. There were helical

swellings at the side of its head and even small wings sprouting out of its back.

David crouched beside the wolf and

lifted a wing. “Vestigial,” he said.

She shrugged. The word meant nothing

to her.

“A left-over trace from a line of

evolution. Except I don’t think this happened over millions of years. This wolf is an experiment. It’s been crossbred with a darkling.”

“A darkling?” Rosa felt a shiver of fear run through her. “But they don’t exist at this timepoint, do they?”

“Look around. What do you notice?”

“The trees,” she said eventually. “The trees look different. Have we
 
moved
?”

“No, but other things have. The timeline

has altered.”

The blur, she thought. That peculiar tug.

David stood up and turned a full circle. “We’re fixed to this point because we’revisitors here, but everything indigenous tothe Earth has changed.”

“So, in this timeframe, Guineveredoesn’t exist?”

“She can exist, but she might not be found in this place. The same is true of Gretel and Thoran.” Who, like Guinevere, had both disappeared.

“And Gawain,” Rosa muttered, looking back the way they’d come – the way she

thought
 
they’d come. There was no sign of the last true dragon. Or David’s horse. Or,   more   worryingly,   her   unicorn, Terrafonne. “Do you think Gwilanna has him?”

“Well, he certainly isn’t dead. I can feel his   auma.   It’s   radiating   out   from somewhere close – probably the island. Even though the legend is bound to have changed, it will gravitate to its original setting.”

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go. Let’s track him down. If we find Gawain, you can bet we find Gwilanna.”

“Yes, but do we want to?” he muttered. He crouched and stared at the woodland

floor. “Gwilanna might not be the whole

cause of this.”

“She must be. She has the tornaq.”

“This is not Groyne’s work. Groyne is just an agent of time. She will have used him to hunt for one of Gawain’s claws, maybe even the isoscele. Nothing else would have the power to stir the Earth. But why would she go this far… ?” He put a hand flat to the ground.

“David, what are you doing? What are you feeling for?”

“Gaia,” he said. “The fire is ascending. The   whole
 
core
  
of  the   Earth  is

realigning… ”

Rosa pushed her hands back through her hair. “David, you’re not making any sense. What are you
 
babbling
 
about?”

“I can answer that for you,” said a voice.

Rosa whipped round. David jumped up,ready to protect her. But he did not assumehis ice bear form and Rosa knew he was

just too stunned to attack. Sitting on the unicorn that had carried them across the

nexus   was   none   other   than   Lucy Pennykettle. On the horse that David had ridden was Tam Farrell. On foot, and quickly surrounding David and Rosa, was a party of unknown beings. They had the physique of ordinary men, but…

David stared at the girl he had known as Lucy. “In the name of Godith, what have they done to you?”

She had gone the same way as the wolf. A human girl with a darkling imprint. Tam

was   the   same,   but   slightly   less recognisable. “Don’t try to resist,” he

said. “We’ve coded the auma from the

bear known as Thoran. Its threat is

nullified. You cannot escape the Shadow.”

Two of the darkling men stepped forward. They grasped David’s arms and sniffed him as if he was just fresh meat. “Coded,” David said. “Interesting choice of word. I would have used ‘corrupted’.” He looked at Lucy again.

She gave the unicorn’s mane a short, sharp tug, making the animal whinny and rear. “The Pri:magon is expecting you.” She barked an order at the men as she

rode. “Bring them.”

2. Wayward Crescent,

Scrubbley

I materialised in the kitchen, the room mymother usually referred to as the ‘centre ofoperations’ in the Pennykettle household. On the fridge top was the listening dragon, Elizabeth’s ‘radar’ for anything andeverything that happened in the house. Forthe listener, like everyone else, thesuspension of time had been no more thana blink. It wasn’t surprised to see me inthe kitchen and must have assumed that I’d

run in from the garden. I spoke a word of greeting and dashed upstairs, almost tripping over Bonnington on the landing. I

poked my head around the door of the Den and saw G’reth, the wishing dragon, shaking his head as if trying to remove some fluff from his ear. Then I heard a

voice from Elizabeth’s bedroom. Arthur

whispering, “Please, no… ”

I ran in. Elizabeth was lying on the bed. Arthur was kneeling on the floor, reaching over her, pressing a nightdress to her tummy. I wasn’t sure if Gwilanna had cut her or not. There were clothes and coat

hangers on the floor, as if someone had fought their way out of the wardrobe. The dressing table mirror was shattered so badly that only one piece of glass was hanging in the frame. Pieces of clay were scattered about the floor. I noticed the

clock on the bedside table. 3:15:22. And

at the foot of the bed, curled up dead, her face contorted by fear, was Gwilanna.

“Arthur,” I said.

He turned. His eyes were as sad as a kitten’s. “She’s gone,” he said. “She’s gone. She’s… ”

And then the timeline changed, just as it had for David and Rosa in their where and

their when in the woodlands of Iunavik.

Everything   blurred   and   the   roomreadjusted. The furniture disappeared, thecurtains with it. The pastel wallpapersfaded away, replaced by violet paintedwalls. A rack of lights shone down fromthe ceiling, illuminating a large, unfinishedsculpture on a turntable in the centre of theroom. The room was cold, on the point offreezing. The sculpture seemed to be made

from ice.

A woman walked in. She was clearly Elizabeth, though her hair was shorter. One eye was violet, the other green. “Hey,” she said kindly, “you shouldn’t bein here without a sweater on, at least.”

I held the hem of my T-shirt out in frontof me and stared at the fabric for several

seconds.

“Agawin, are you okay?” she said.

Agawin
 
. I looked up, feeling my face. “Am I… a boy again?”

She laughed and said, “Sweetheart, you’ve always been a boy.”

“My wings?” I whirled around, trying to see them.