Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (8 page)

/I think I have been here before. It’s… yes! There
!/

She directed her gaze in the direction he was feeling towards and found what he was so focused on
;
the entrance to a mine. And not just any mine – it was huge. Workers, little ants from where she stood on the hill, bustled in and out of the gaping hole in the side of a cliff. Further down the valley was a small town and a narrow path ran directly between the two.

“It’s the Orvale Mine,” Sarra said, coming to stand next to her where she had stopped on the path. “If your dragon recognises it, he must have been at the battle here – they were overwhelmed. Or maybe he was one of the dragons who lived here.”

There she went again, fishing for information

/Human monsters took our gold, broke our hatchlings, little flying LIZARDS
!/

The furious outburst from Voice stunned Giselle. Her annoyance at Sarra vanished into concern for him. She turned from the mine, stumbling down the path away from Sarra and holding up a hand to a raging headache behind her forehead that had come from nowhere.

“Voice?” she whispered, continuing to walk fast so Sarra wouldn’t hear.

The rage still pulsed through him, scaring both of them, but it mixed with confusion.

/I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened. For… for a second I remembered, but now there’s nothing. I don’t think I want to remember. I think we should leave here fast
./

“Turn left ahead Giselle! We’ll stop here for the night,” Sarra called.

Voice moaned and Giselle sighed. When she reached the fork in the road she turned left, walking down the hill and towards the mining town.

*

If ever she had had a bad idea, this idea eclipsed it so much it was just a tiny blip of bad judgement in comparison. Every nerve screamed at her to not be so stupid, to turn around and go back into the town because nothing good could come of this. She could hear a similar battle coming from Voice, but behind it was the driving force of curiosity sending them both towards the Orvale Mine.

They had lain awake on top of Giselle’s cloak trying to forget what had happened earlier, but with every minute that ticked by it nudged them, again and again, keeping them up. That fury had bubbled down into a simmering anger, but neither understood why. It did not stop Voice snapping at Giselle as his bad mood grew. He apologised every so often but it was affecting her too, to the extent that she was doing the same to Sarra who had left them in the inn room to go down to the alehouse. That was when they had tried to sleep – and then come up with the crazy idea of finding out exactly what was causing this.

/Hurry up
!/

“Sorry I don’t have wings!”

Resentment bubbled between them and Giselle scowled at the path ahead. It was the same one she had seen earlier that day from atop the hill, although it seemed much longer now. At least none of the miners were about – the moon and stars were clear enough in the sky that it must be near midnight. Up ahead the gaping entrance to the mine loomed over them, a great mass of darkness ripped into the side of the cliff that rose high until it transformed into the edge of the hill.

The moon lit her path and she kept walking until she found herself standing right in the middle of the entrance. She could
see inside now – a few flickering torches in brackets were placed along the blackened walls of the large cavern, showing off piles of carts and rope and chisels. Much smaller tunnels led into utter darkness, with no torches to show what they might lead to.

/Gold
./
His voice seemed to echo; he was louder than she had ever heard him before.
/Gold everywhere… I can feel it. Below us… it rises up… to feed us.
To strengthen us.
It is meant for us, but these humans toy with it – they turn it into pretty things for their mates, they use it to buy foreign goods – and they do not think, they do not see beyond themselves
!/
With every word his voice strengthened until it was a roar. Other roars rose up from nowhere; human and dragon bellowing ran through her mind like quicksand, fading straight away but she spun, looking for the source.

Only bare rock stared back – although for another second it seemed to be lit far brighter. Flames chased the walls, throwing high shadows of men with swords and rearing winged creatures. She ran from the searing heat of the flames, stumbling out into the empty valley – but it did not stay like that for long.

Giselle flew with Voice above the valley, looking down as it burned. The moon had vanished. A mix of human and ferocious dragon roars filled the air and the only light came from a raging fire that burnt up one side of the cliff and crept inside the mine entrance. Howls of anguish came from a dragon collapsed on the ground below, its wings in shreds and men rushing at it with swords and pikes. Arrows soared up towards them like a flock of ravenous crows, all intent on their target – her.

She dropped with one shift of her wings so all except a few of the arrows flew above her. Those that made it pierced her leathery skin in a steady collection of stings. She clawed at them,
howling, but knocking them with heavy feet only drove the heads deeper. She beat her wings to bring herself out of the reach of the archers, but down below were dragons from her flock, trapped, screaming, dying…

Giselle let out a thunderous roar, turning her body and nosediving down. A great breath of fire erupted from within her and fried the humans hacking at Horas – but it was too late, Horas was gone, her wings destroyed and her soul disappeared. She tried reaching out, tried shouting to make her hear, but there was no soul to call out to.

/Horas
!/

“Stop messing about kid, you’re in real trouble now don’t make it worse!”

Giselle’s eyes flashed open. Two faces peered down at her, one scowling and one bored. The scowling one reached for her arm and tried to tug her up.

“
Get off
!” she screamed, jumping up with claws bared to rip at his face. Humans, human miners, they killed the dragons, tore them apart–

/Took our home, took our family–/

“
Killed our hatchlings, broke our Flier–”

Giselle darted away from the scowling man and threw herself at the bored man
instead,
pressing her nails deep into his cheek to tear at the skin, blood filling her fingernails. His fist hit the side of her face and threw her sideways to land on the rough rocky floor. It came back to her in a flash that she was a girl who didn’t know how to fight lying on the floor of a quarry – with two men she had attacked advancing on her, one wiping a smear of blood away from his cheek. She leapt to her feet and ran.

If only she had wings like she’d felt a few moments ago she could soar away from them easily – but running was futile. They were grown men and with every one of her steps she could hear their heavy footfalls get louder. Something pushed her shoulder and she fell face first onto the ground, one arm scraping against a rock. What felt like a foot pounded into her side and she curled up, wrapping her hands around her head as the next blow came.

/Sorry… I’m sorry, this is all my fault…/

Voice’s guilt somehow filtered through the fury and deep sorrow still filling him. She wished she could argue, but a fresh boot to her ribs stole her ability to talk.

A hand tangled in her cloak and yanked her up so fast she almost threw up. The angry man – furious now – held her up and shook her.

“Crazy bitch!”

She was too dazed to answer. There was movement and she realised they were pulling her back in the direction of the town. She stumbled, trying to walk with them.

/Giselle
?/

Voice seemed dazed. The thoughts he tried to send to her were a muddle of incoherency.

“Mm?”

The man glared down and shook her again.

Voice’s words came together.
/I know who I am
./
The confusion shifted to certainty.
/I am Baltair. I am the alpha dragon
./

CHAPTER 8

G
iselle slouched against the cold wall, staring out through the bars of her cell to watch as Sarra argued with the jailmaster.

“She’s just a child–”

“She attacked my guards!”

“She didn’t mean any harm–”

“Have you seen Dewi’s face?” the man exploded, his face bright red. He gesticulated with both arms. “She was wild! And she was creeping around the mines – for all we know she’s part of a smuggling gang! They recruit young, y’know.”

Sarra’s expression twisted for a moment as she decided how to reply to the awkwardly–phrased accusation. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “She’s my cousin. We’re going home from Tyrun. She’s just a bit…”

“Crazy? I’ve heard her talking to herself!
Demons, that
could be! A wild demon smuggler!”

Several painful hours had passed since her attempt to see what was in the mines and the sun peeped in through the high window. It had not taken long for Sarra to find her at the jail and for the past hour she and the jailmaster had been repeating cycles of the same argument over and over. Sarra wanted her free. The jailmaster wanted her in court. At the moment, she wasn’t sure who would win. The thought of being in court
didn’t daunt her much; she was sure she could escape. Even if that failed she could talk to herself and convince them she was crazy.

/I’m sorry
./

It was at least the tenth time today that Voice – Baltair – had apologised. It was hard to remember that he was now Baltair and not Voice, but the knowledge kept rolling through her as he marvelled at it.

“It’s not your fault,” Giselle repeated.

/I let my memories take over
./

“I don’t think you were in much control of it.”

Sarra and the jailmaster paused their argument to glance her way. She stared back, and they soon realised she wasn’t talking to either of them and returned to their shouting.

Baltair hummed in reluctant agreement, disquiet rumbling around him as both their thoughts went back to the horrific scenes they had witnessed last night. Even with her limited knowledge of dragon history (although that was growing every day she spent with Sarra), Giselle had heard of the Battle of Orvale Mine. It had come near the end of the war – the only time the King’s soldiers had joined in, to drive the dragons away from the valley.

/We used to live here together.
Humans in the town, dragons in their caves.
We let them mine, they let us hunt
./

His memories were still patchy, but throughout the night more of it had come back to him and he had shared it with Giselle. At first he had tried to keep it to himself, but she had insisted he not bear the burden alone. Mostly it was the battle, but the odd memory that didn’t fit floated up occasionally. Flying over a mountain covered in pine trees. Hunting a deer. A giant egg, smashed over a rock with the remnants of what had
almost lived poking out from one end. That last one she tried not to think about. She was still struggling with the knowledge that he had fought in that battle and seen his flock die. Part of her wished he did have a physical form just so she could hug him.

/I’m not a dog. You don’t hug dragons
./

“I don’t care. I would. You wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

/No. Not you
./

Giselle smiled. It was strange to think that the only friend she’d ever had was the deadliest, most powerful dragon of the age.

“You must have been to the capital before,” she mused. “Bal–” She stopped herself. The jailmaster might dismiss her ramblings as simple craziness so long as she didn’t start mentioning long–dead dragon leaders who used to live across the valley. “You used to visit it – before.”

/Before the war
,/
he rumbled, understanding what she could not say.
/I must have, to meet with the King. With… my Flier
./
She could feel him rooting through his slowly returning memories, but the only knowledge of that person was that he had been badly injured.
/I think he was old. I… I am old! I’m ancient
!/