Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (18 page)

“Oh.” She stopped peering and returned to staring around the room. “Well that’s okay. If you practice you’ll get better. That’s what Mama says. It’s what I’m going to do to be a Flier. Mama says I’m too little but I won’t be little forever, I’m
gonna
grow all big like Moira! Then I can be a Flier!”

He frowned and she rolled her eyes – or at least she tried to. It was obvious she’d seen someone else doing it and copied, but hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet.

“Don’t you
start.
I can do it! I know I won’t be as big as Moira – but I don’t need to be that big, that’s silly big! People always say I can’t though.”

“No – I didn’t mean that,” he said. “Just… the dragons aren’t here yet. Maybe something will go wrong. Don’t get too excited.”

/This is what you betray
./

The words hit harder than anything else Frang had said – and the dragon could tell. Corran could feel him latching onto it to use against him.

Karen shook her head and looking up at him like he didn’t know a thing. “Don’t be silly. You’ll do it.” She patted his arm and at that moment someone swooped down from behind.

“Karen, there you are!”

The woman was a few years older than his sister – late twenties, with a light in her eyes that reminded him of his sister as well. She scooped Karen up and bounced her in her arms.

“Mama, it’s the dragonslayer!”

“He’s not a dragonslayer, Karen. His Papa was bad, but he’s different. He’s here to help us.”

She smiled down at him and Karen produced a simultaneous toothy grin.

“He’s funny. And he’s called the same as me! He’s got a girl’s name!”

“It’s Corran,” he muttered under his breath. The woman laughed.

“Come on, Karen, let’s go find Papa. Say thank you to Corran.”

“Thaaank you Karen!” she chimed out, bursting into giggles.

“Thank you,” her mother repeated, with a more earnest tone. “You do not know how much it means, that you help us. It gives us hope. Maybe one day all southerners will respect dragons as we do.”

Corran wished there was a back to his chair he could slump against as she walked away, Karen skipping by her side. A lump had risen to his throat as she spoke and now it would not go away. Was it her words? Or was it the decision that it was time to do what he had intended from the start and betray these people?

I’m not betraying them. I’m just getting rid of the dragons,
he told himself.

/They will die. Giselle, Sarra, Garth, Henry. If you go to your brothers you kill them
./

It’s not my fault they threw their lot in with dragons.

/You kill them
./

Shut up.

/Traitor.
Corran the Traitor.
Corran the Betrayer.
That’s what they’ll remember you as, far more than your precious father will ever think well of you
./

“Corran!”

Henry almost toppled over, all arms and legs as he sat down next to Corran. Somehow he was still growing. Corran nodded in greeting. Food arrived on the tables for their big ‘welcome feast’ but he couldn’t bring himself to smile.

/Traitor
./

“What did Gerard want? Isn’t this place amazing? Look – you can see where all the dragons would have sat!” Henry enthused, gesturing to one side.

Corran tried to join the conversation, but was grateful when Maria sat down next to them and took the pressure away.

/Traitor
./

I am a traitor either way!
he
screamed at Frang, slamming his fork into a slice of meat so hard that Henry jumped. It was the best food he had eaten since leaving Dunslade Town, but it was impossible to enjoy it. He chewed, unable to taste it, and swallowed past the lump still lodged in his throat. He had been born into this choice. It was no choice really. He couldn’t delay finding Glyn any more.

Except… he should look around Cridhal first.
Just because he wasn’t going to get any more information from the Firesouls didn’t mean this village had nothing to tell him. There might be something important in these caves. He took another bite and swallowed it more easily. He could give himself a little more time.

/You keep putting it off. Not getting cold feet are you
?/

Corran shook his head, not gracing that comment with a response. Frang could delude himself if he wanted. Soon it
would be too late for him to do anything ever again. The Firesouls weren’t setting off for the mountains yet so why rush? He would leave when he had to and Frang was a fool if he doubted that for a second.

*

Corran peered out of the small nook in the cave he had tucked himself into. The backs of two men disappeared around a corner and he squeezed out, holding one hand up to muffle the sound of his coughing.

Coughing? Was he getting sick? No, of course not, it was just the dust. He refused to get the dragon sickness, especially now when he was so close.

/You better not
./

Like it’s for your benefit. You’re the reason I’d get sick to start with! You go on so much about how dragons aren’t as bad as people think, but dragons are literally killing humans with their sickness!

Frang grumbled but had no words to defend himself.

Exactly.

/It’s not worth the effort of arguing with you
./

Corran shook his head, continuing down the cave passageway and looking everywhere, up at the ceiling as well as in the rough walls. He turned to look in a doorway to his left then jumped back, pressing
himself
against the wall next to it. Giselle was in there. Giselle and Sarra. He steadied his breathing as he heard their voices float out, unaware that he was listening.

“–
every
northerner dreamt of growing up to be a Flier – it was a rite of passage to come here and be tested by the council. Growing up in Cridhal made us luckier than all of them.”

“Wasn’t there anyone from out of the mountains? From Tyrun?”

Something smashed inside and Corran jumped, but Sarra’s voice sounded normal. “Not really. The dragons belong to the mountains and so do we.
”

They had no idea he was there. He paused, listening hard. Might they let anything slip? Maybe they’d mention where the eggs were?

But the talk just continued on the same vein, going into the nitty gritty details of Flier life. He didn’t care about that. They’d never get to be Fliers.

He walked on down the
tunnel,
for once glad he was short so he didn’t have to keep ducking his head. Here and there flaming torch brackets were hung on the wall, lighting his way and casting shadows over the walls that danced along with him. This place was extraordinary.

/It wouldn’t exist without dragons
./

You couldn’t even fit in these tunnels,
Corran replied with a roll of his eyes. Trust dragons to want to take credit for something that was obviously a human creation.

/But without us there would be nowhere for the tunnels to lead.
Turn left
./

Corran frowned at the parting in the tunnel in front of him. He wasn’t stupid enough to be led into a trap. Curiosity poked at him though, so he sighed and went down the left path. He stayed alert for anything that might signal something was wrong.

Where are you taking me?

/Learn some patience
./

Well how do I know you’re not going to drop me in a hole?

/Because then I’d be stuck in a hole too! Go right
./

Corran turned. This passage was wider and tall enough that even Floyd would have a foot of space above his head. Maybe a
dragon would fit in here. His footsteps echoed into the reigning silence and he saw that cobwebs littered the walls. Confusion filtered through from Frang but he shook it away, urging Corran on.

He turned a corner and stopped in front of a wide archway. A makeshift barrier had been constructed across it, but the wood was rotting and had fallen away in places.

/Why is it blocked
?/

Corran stepped forward and peered through one of the gaps. Beyond was a room with more riches than even his father’s dining hall. Right in front of him a pile of gold stood unattended, swords and jewellery and lumps of the stuff. Forget Dunslade Town. He could build another Tyrun for himself with this! He would never need to ask permission for anything if he had this kind of wealth.

/It’s not yours. It belongs to us
./

Well you’re not here,
Corran retorted, pushing against the wood. It crumbled under his touch. He glanced over his shoulder then tugged at it more, pulling away what he could. The bottom was weakest; a gap had been left there to start with. He dropped down and kicked with one foot, smashing through. Another kick. He pushed both feet through the hole and wriggled into the room.

Despite his grumpy words, Corran could feel Frang release a breath of relief as he stood and surveyed the room. To his disappointment there were no more piles like the first and even that one seemed smaller than he’d thought. This cave was lighter than any of the passageways but no torch brackets stood on the walls. He turned his head upwards and had to squint as the sun hit his eyes. Instead of the rocky low ceiling that had been everywhere else, another wide tunnel stretched far up,
beyond what he could ever hope to climb and opening to the sky.

/This is the reason the tunnels exist. The reason Cridhal exists. The catacombs were built by dragons long before humans lived here
./

Fine, fine, very impressive.
Corran stepped towards the gold.
You can’t mine gold though. This should all belong to humans.

/We need gold and we bought it fair and square! Dragon lives were lost defending the border, so our hatchlings could fly and speak
!/
Frang snapped back, rearing up and knocking Corran on one side of his head.

Corran winced as it pounded into a headache but still lifted a sword from the edge of the pile. The blade was good quality steel in need of sharpening, but gold lines traced up in curling patterns. The hilt was plated gold with no jewels but carved into intricate shapes.

It was a fitting replacement for the dragon bone sword he had been forced to leave behind.

/This is all the gold we have
,/
Frang argued half–heartedly.

Corran shrugged, unsheathing his old sword and dropping that to the cavern floor with a clatter, sticking the new one in its place. What else had Frang expected, bringing him to a place like this? He would have to come back, though. He had to be careful so no one would notice. They’d locked this up for a reason, probably to stop anyone else getting at it. Saving gold for dead dragons seemed ridiculous to him, but the people here were crazy. It was exactly the kind of thing they’d do.

He stuffed several lumps into his pockets and hurried back to the archway. Glyn would understand if he was a bit late so long as he shared some of the gold.

Frang smirked in his head and Corran rolled his eyes. Let the dragon hope. There was no good reason to pull out now when he had the chance to become rich as well as famous. He would be long gone before the Firesouls got a chance to leave.

CHAPTER
17

S
imon was ever–present. Even when he was not physically near, he filled Baltair’s mind. Giselle could not forget about him. She could not forget how Baltair had tried to leave, even though he had assured her he had not meant to.

She found herself grateful for Sarra’s near–constant presence. She was getting better at conversation and it was a welcome distraction. She learnt what mountain folk grew up knowing; the dragon lore she had always avoided in Tyrun for Baltair’s sake. From the first treaty with King Rhian’s great–grandfather, right up to the building of the Wall and how events went downhill from there. She learnt how this village – a town when you counted all the homes built into the cliff – had become the centre for Fliers. When the dragons were large enough they would fly down here to meet them and choose a Flier. It was a mutual decision. The bond required for flying with a dragon would not be strong enough if either party was not committed.