Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (27 page)

He reached for her hand and she took it. Something snorted behind them and they turned to find the donkey watching them. Hopefully it would find its way back to the man he had taken it from.

Frang hovered in the back of his mind, a hesitant hope running through him. As Corran ducked his head to enter the tunnel, he spoke.

/Thank you.
Forget anything I said about you owing me. I can never repay you for this
./

Wait till I’ve got the egg before grovelling,
Corran joked the best he could.

A glimmer of humour shone through from Frang, and Corran marvelled at how much things had changed. He smiled at Tilda, embraced Frang’s encouragement, and ducked down to enter the boulder tunnel, disappearing into darkness.

CHAPTER
24

/
Faster
!
/

Giselle struggled to lengthen her strides as Baltair rolled tumultuously in her head. He had been on edge for the last three days of getting lost then finding the way again. The closer they got the worse he was. She could feel his panic when he allowed the terrifying worries to rise. What if the eggs had been damaged? What if he forgot the way at the last moment?

They had stopped going higher now at least, so the ground was even. Instead they worked their way further into the mountains, sometimes among trees but sometimes on rocky paths with only straggly weeds to give them any greenness.

/The river! See that river
!/

She turned her head and found what he was talking about – it was narrow but flowed fast between the rocks below them.

/I passed over that! I landed nearby… that way
!/

His urgency filled her just as it had when they had arrived in Cridhal and she had found Simon. She started to jog. Flashes of Baltair’s memories funnelled into her; beating wings slowing to a halt right above that patch of trees, a bag of the finest, strongest fabric clutched in his claws. The trees were taller now than they had been, but they stood in the same places and the
source of the river flowed through them as rapidly as it had done sixteen years ago.

She scrambled up a muddy slope to get there faster, onto a stony outcrop. Baltair had jumped up with just a flap of his wings. There were no trees here, but pine needles littered the floor from trees leaning off a cliff high above.

Pine needles dropped on Giselle’s shoulders as she landed with a thud. They stung in the recent wounds gouged in her hide. She leaned forward to protect the eggs even from such a small disturbance. The growing souls squirmed and cried out voicelessly from the bag. They would be silent soon and it tore at her far more than a human sword or arrow could – but this was the only way. Every new hatchling was just another to be killed by the dragonslayers.

The mountain of rubble in front of Giselle towered high, far higher than the cave entrance had been. She stood for a second, rocking under the pressure of memories still rushing in. But she couldn’t stand for long – Baltair shoved her towards it, desperate. She leapt forward and grabbed a rock.

She pushed into the cave, ducking her head and tucking her wings in to fit, and set the bag down. The corners of the fabric were released from her mouth and they dropped to the floor to reveal five eggs to be added to the existing pile of twelve. Every muscle ached from carrying such a heavy load for so long – but still she wished she had managed to find more. Of all the dragons left in the mountains, she could only find seventeen eggs. It would not be enough – after some of them were reborn, more eggs would have to be given to allow the others a new body. But it was the best she could do.

She stared down at the assortment of eggs and the splashes of gold items scattered around them to keep them living. Would it
be enough? Once, she had led a hundred dragons into battle alongside humans to keep the invading Ikjorians out. Just five years ago she had been welcome at King Ivor’s court. But once this was done, dragons would be gone.
Only for a few months, but it had been under her watch.
She had failed her flock. Every flock.

She tore at the rocks and plants that had sprouted up between them, tying the rubble together. Baltair had meant to leave the eggs for a few months, not years! Would they be okay? Would it still work? She pushed anything loose to one side so it crashed down to the ground. Coughs wracked through her again and she had to pause to spit blood to one side as a wave of dizziness overcame her. But her hands kept moving, shaking as they worked at the only remaining barrier to the dragon eggs.

Giselle turned her back on the cave and squeezed back out. One flap of her wings and she was up, soaring away. She returned minutes later with rocks, the biggest she could find, to place in front of the cave.
A tree, as well.
Two
trees,
pushed off the cliff edge above. They splintered when they met the rock ground below but she pushed them into the growing pile of debris that blocked the cave’s entrance. It did not take long until she could not see the eggs inside, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted a pile so big no human would ever attempt to get through it unless they knew what value lay beyond. Soon she would direct Simon back here and she could have a body back.

The cave entrance was covered. The sun was setting. The time had come for one last flight with Simon, one last battle against the dragonslayers…

“Giselle?”

Sarra was behind her. The other Firesouls must be nearby. They could help!

“In here! They’re behind the rubble, in the cave!”

She heard Sarra starting to snap orders but paid no attention, scrambling up the rocks where she could to get to the top of the pile to start tearing that down. They were close, so close now. Paradoxical fear filled Giselle as she tore at it, realising that this was the end. This was what she had been trying to avoid thinking about for so long. Baltair would leave her.

He was too beside himself to notice. She slammed one finger against a rock and it ripped the nail, beginning to bleed, but she didn’t pause. She was terrified, but he was beyond desperate. She couldn’t deny him. She had kept him from Simon, but she couldn’t keep him from this.

A gap began to open at the top and she worked even faster, splitting another nail in her rush. She shifted, wriggling so her feet were through the gap and shoving away the debris until it was big enough that finally, she could slide right through and land in the cave.

It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness, but a ray of sunlight from the hole she had just made illuminated a marble, curved shell. She rushed forwards, dropping to her knees to touch the bumpy surface, and as her eyes adapted she found the rest of the eggs – they were all here, all safe.
All seventeen of them.

She checked each egg individually, making sure there were no cracks or damage. More light filtered in as the other Firesouls battled with the barrier and made their way through. She could hear them marvelling – but also their surprise.

“There’s not enough…”

She lifted one of the
medium
–sized eggs. It was lighter than she’d expected, but she held it close to her chest with both arms. So this was it. It was time to say goodbye to Baltair. She found
herself oddly at peace with the idea. It was the right thing to do. He had been trapped for sixteen years and as much as she feared a life without her Voice, she could not ask him to continue. He was a dragon, not just a soul. He deserved to fly again.

“Ready?” she whispered.

/Ready
./

The crash resonated through the cave and stone dropped in a shatter from above. She spun to find a man standing by the entrance, a sword in one hand and the end of it right through the middle of one of the eggs.

/NO
!/

Baltair’s anguish fuelled her and she didn’t stop to think as she rushed forward, knife in one hand and egg held close to her in the other arm. He laughed and stepped back out over the now scattered rubble, throwing the remnants of the egg to one side. He was a stranger – but his face was an older version of Corran’s.

“Dunslade,” she growled, not sure if the word came from her or Baltair.

“And I know who you are. You’re the girl with Baltair,” he taunted, twirling his sword in one hand. Others stood nearby. Another two men who must be Dunslades, and a group of mismatched raiders. They’d followed them here… how had they known to do that?

Corran. It must be.

“Destroy the eggs!” the Corran–lookalike shouted. “Kill the Firesouls if you have to, but try and keep them for our precious king!”

They rushed into the cave.

“Protect the eggs!” Sarra cried from within.

Shouts and the clashes of metal against metal echoed out, leaving her to face the older Dunslade alone.

“Well this all worked out nicely. Huw Dunslade kills Baltair when even the great Lord Huwcyn couldn’t manage it!”

/Be careful, Giselle. If he’s anything like his father…/

She faced him down for several seconds, taking in his size and weight and how he handled the sword as if he’d carried it since he was a baby. She hefted the egg once and
sprinted away
.

“Hey! Don’t think you can outrun me!” he yelled after her, but she didn’t take breath to reply.

/Don’t stop! Get to the trees
!/

She took a step onto the slope she had scrambled up earlier and fell straight down it, ending up in the dirt at the bottom with the egg clutched to her chest. She leapt back up to her feet and resumed running, darting in and out of trees and changing direction to throw him off. Somewhere behind her, heavy footsteps followed.

CHAPTER 25

A
fter all the stories Corran had heard as a child of savage Ikjorians covered in blood tattoos, he had imagined a bare land with few trees, dust everywhere and signs of warfare.

The trees towering above him were as tall and green as Aulander trees
,
and the mountains looked as impassable from this side of the Wall as the other.
T
he memory of passing through Wall in pursuit of the scouts was all that confirmed they were outside of Auland.

“Corran!” Tilda hissed, not for the first time that day. He turned away from the direction of home and hurried after her, forcing a smile
as the wind nipped his skin
. She rolled her eyes and marched on. He patted the donkey’s side as it followed her, remaining a few paces behind. As soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to glance back, the smile dropped off his face. Last night’s argument replayed in his head once more and he glared at her back. Who was she, to say he couldn’t fight those scouts? His shoulder still twinged, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight. He’d been brought up fighting, he knew far more about it than her!

/She’s trying to protect you
./

Corran continued to grumble to himself in his head, ignoring Frang’s overly–reasonable words. What happened to sarcasm? Sarcasm was much easier to argue with.

/You can’t waste your chance to get that egg. You’ll only get one
./

He scowled at Tilda’s back but said nothing. When had everyone got so serious? Frang had lost his sarcasm. Tilda never sang anymore, never made jokes. She was like a different person. Why couldn’t everything be like it was back in Dunslade Town? Ale and horses and dancing–