Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (28 page)

A hand caught the front of his shirt, halting him and interrupting his internal monologue. Tilda had frozen and one finger was pressed to her lips to stop his words before they’d even formed. His eyes darted ahead to hunt out what had caught her attention and he saw for himself; a thin trail of smoke spiralling up from a dip in the forest floor ahead.

“Why are they stopping so early?” he asked, pressing his lips to Tilda’s ear and speaking so quietly even the donkey’s ears didn’t perk up at the sound.

She gave a miniscule shrug and as one they worked their way back into a thicker set of trees. They could keep quiet enough, but the donkey would lose its patience and give them away. It had somehow scrambled through the gap in the Wall after them. They’d tried to send it back, but it had caught up after only an hour so now they were stuck with it lumbering along. To be honest, Corran was grateful. Hearing the donkey’s hooves crunching on leaves broke up the silence between him and Tilda.

He didn’t know how to act around her when she was like this, so when she sat and began to lay down the firewood they’d been gathering he remained standing.

“Going to find some food,” he whispered, not waiting for a reply before walking away.

/She’s not that stupid
./

Why didn’t she stop me then?
Corran thought back, moving closer to where they had glimpsed the two Ikjorian women settling down. He just wanted this over. Get the egg, get Frang out of his head, get back to Auland, live happily ever after with Tilda and never have to worry about dragons again. This had dragged on for too long.

His feet pressed silently against the soft carpet of pine needles. The wind pushed its way past him, swinging the branches and covering what little noise he did make as he approached the Ikjorians. A glimpse of flickering orange light ahead alerted him to how close he was and he dropped down behind some rocks. He shuffled closer until he could peer down the slope.

The women were there. One stoked the fire and the other appeared to be skinning a rabbit. They hadn’t got so close to them before but now he could see the swirling red tattoos running down their arms. Their hair was tied back in long tails and both were more muscular than he had ever seen on a woman before. They were like nothing he knew and for a moment he was entranced.

/Corran
!/

That was all it took to remind him they were Ikjorian and would kill him the second they found him in their country.

Sorry.

If the legend about blood tattoos was true what else might be?
The cannibalism in battle?
Collecting eyes of the people they killed?

/The egg
!/

Corran nodded to himself, searching for it. It was large enough it couldn’t be easily concealed. So far they seemed to have been carrying it in turns on their backs and sure enough
he found the canvas bag nestled between one of the women and the fire. It would be difficult to get to. They always took turns standing guard at night, but they seemed so alert he wasn’t sure sneaking in then would be any easier – especially since he would be tired too.

Speed. That was the only way. If he tried to creep in they’d notice and butcher him. He had to be in and out so fast they didn’t have a chance to react. Racing was one area he had always managed to beat his brothers.

The casual thought stabbed him, but he pushed it aside.

He drew his sword and slid carefully down the slope. He wanted to be as close as he could before sprinting. The smell of burning meat drifted towards him and gave him comfort; any sound he made would not be carried on the wind.

He readied himself, crouched and rocking on the balls of his feet. The woman turned away from the fire. He ran.

“Ai!” A screech called out from his left, but he had already scooped up the egg. Something caught his leg and he tripped, sprawling over the floor and jarring his shoulder. The egg rolled away.

/Careful, Corran
!/

Corran didn’t bother to grace that with a reply. He kicked back and heard a satisfying crunch as his foot connected. He jumped up, grabbed the egg and scrambled up the slope. An arrow flew past his head and he ducked. Another nicked his arm and he swore, tightening his hold on the egg and lengthening his stride as he found flat ground. He sprinted through the forest, all too aware of the sounds of the two women chasing him. He glanced back but couldn’t see them before he had to look forward to make sure he wasn’t going to
run into a tree. His breathing came hard, reminding him his previous injuries were far from healed.

He jumped down into a stream, splashing along it. It was noisy, too noisy, but there was a cave ahead. He bolted into the darkness without pausing and jumped up onto the ledge he had seen from the outside, hurrying down it then stopping. He crouched, exerting his will to not look back out at the entrance so his eyes could get used to the dark. It was just like the caves in the Moss Woods. He’d always won at hide–and–seek because he could stay quietest. Would it be enough now?

They splashed in and Corran bit his tongue to stop himself gasping. He stared ahead at the opposite cave wall that was starting to show itself, heart racing as their calls to one another in Ikjorian echoed all around. His eyes dropped for a second and his heart hurtled into his throat when he found one of them below him. She floundered past, arms outstretched but still tripping over a rock hidden in the water. She yelled loudly and the other woman waved an arm in her direction. They continued further into the cave, around the corner. He released a long, silent breath. The egg was safe in his arms, oddly smooth compared to Frang’s memories.

/You can’t stay here. They’ll come back when they can’t find you there – you have to get my egg to safety
!/

Frang was
right,
he’d only bought himself a few extra minutes. He moved along the rock ledge as quietly as he could. If he was his normal healthy self and wasn’t carrying a dragon egg he could have clambered over the edge and avoided the water. Instead he slipped in one foot at a time, trying not to splash.

Words he didn’t understand shouted out behind him and he ran, jumping out of the water and heading back the way he
came. He sprinted, kicking pine needles everywhere. Where was he? The Ikjorians might know this forest but it all looked the same to him. He realised with a gasp of panic and exertion that he didn’t know where to run – he couldn’t risk taking them back to Tilda.

He yelled in alarm when he ran into something soft and solid, sending them both falling to the floor.

“Corran!” Tilda hissed, grabbing him by the edge of his shirt and tugging him down into a gulley. She pulled a large branch over the top of them. Wet mud lapped up at him and twigs from the branch scratched at his back, but he bit his tongue and stayed still. Had the Ikjorians seen? How had Tilda even found him?

/She followed
,/
Frang told him as he opened his mouth to ask.
/Now quiet you idiot
!/

Running footsteps froze him far better than Frang’s words had. Were they hidden enough? Had they been seen? He gripped his sword hilt tighter and held the egg close. If they were found he could run off with the egg and keep Tilda safe – but what if they caught her to use as bait?

One of the women shouted something as they jogged past. Corran tried to peer up through the branches but Tilda held him down by one sleeve. Her breath was loud in his ear. He turned his head to look at her and for a second glimpsed the fear on her face. She covered it with a scowl and a motion to be still, but she gripped his arm far harder than necessary. He gripped back, cradling the egg and willing the Ikjorians to run far away.

CHAPTER 26

H
uw Dunslade’s voice called out from somewhere behind her, but his words told Giselle she had lost him. He was still close, though – she wasn’t safe yet. A coughing fit hit her and she staggered to a halt, dropping the egg. She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to smother the sound. Drawing them away, nausea rose at the sight of fresh blood, more than she had ever coughed up before. She wiped it off on the ground and scooped the egg up, feeling it over for damage. She didn’t try and move further away from the man – instead she pulled her cloak off and wrapped it around the egg, securing it against her. She reached for the closest branch and pulled herself up into the tree.

“I’ll find you, girl! Gonna kill your dragon!”

His roar echoed through the trees. He’d got closer. She just had to get high enough that he wouldn’t spot her. Baltair’s thoughts were preoccupied with the eggs back in the cave but he urged her to climb faster. She did, as much as she could without risking the egg. The tree was damp from the rain that had soaked them all last night and every so often she slipped, but she had climbed so much around Tyrun that it was not difficult. There were handholds everywhere and the bark itself was rough enough to grip onto and hoist her up another few feet.

She glanced down and felt dizzy at how high she had climbed. She tucked herself into the tree trunk, sitting on a thick branch with one arm around the tree and the other holding onto the egg. Threats floated up to her – he was closer still, but he wouldn’t be looking up. He had no reason to.

/Light a fire
./

“Wh–”
What?
Giselle hissed.
That’s crazy! He’ll see us straight away!

/Light a fire and put the egg and goldsmoke in. I can get a body, kill him, get to the eggs
./

Th–that’s still crazy!

/Giselle, they’re destroying the eggs! We can’t wait – once I am a dragon again I can protect them, but I can’t now
!/

She bit her lip, not replying aloud or in her head, but tugged several of the driest twigs off the branch. She set them down and lifted two, starting to rub them as she had done so many times before. A spark lifted – then two. A tiny flame licked one twig and she dropped the other to protect it, lowering it to the other twigs to set them alight. A few more tumbled off the edge of the branch but she snapped off bigger ones.

A small fire danced before her, but it wasn’t enough. She wondered for a brief moment about the wisdom of starting a fire in a tree, but dismissed it. This was necessary. She clambered to her feet to reach up to a much thinner branch than the one she sat on and snapped it right off, feeding it into her fire, then grabbed another one. The flames were growing, enough that she could feel the heat coming off them.

/Giselle, use the alcohol
!/

She nodded as she remembered the fuel and reached into the pocket of her Flier uniform for the small bottle. The lid dropped out of her shaking fingers to fall to the floor below as
she tipped it, pouring the liquid onto and around the burning wood. The flames leapt up to tinge her face as it found the fuel and she backed away.

/Still not enough! It has to be the whole branch, not just twigs
!/

The bark was catching and she added more thin branches and twigs as fuel. One dropped off the edge and as the heat continued to grow she scrambled down onto a new branch.

“Hey!”

Fear filled her as she looked down towards the voice and found Huw staring back at her. He jumped, trying to climb the tree, but the branch snapped off the moment he put his weight on it. He tried again, but the same thing happened. She was safe up here for now – so long as the fire didn’t get too big.

A rock spun upwards and she stood to cling onto the tree trunk. It fell short but the next one didn’t; it flew right through the space where she had been sitting a moment ago.

/Add the goldsmoke now
!/

She reached for the pouch strapped to her belt and tugged it free with trembling hands, jumping when another rock came too close. Hearing a popping nearby she reached for a
pine cone
half on fire. It was too hot to hold and she dropped it more than threw it, but it landed on the man’s arm and he jumped backwards with a curse. She didn’t bother to undo the pouch – she just threw it up so it landed on the flaming branch that needed no more fuel. The fabric burnt away and a great puff of white smoke rose up as the first of the flames met her goldsmoke. She reached for another
pine cone
and threw it, wincing as it burnt her hand. He was trying to climb again, sword still clutched in
one hand
and yelling obscenities in frustration when he tumbled down once more. She threw
another
pine cone
, but at the same time slid down to a lower branch, away from the fire. It burnt at the side of her face, the heat pressing in with tiny pinpricks of pain.