The Firebrand Legacy (21 page)

The raider clopped forward as Carine reached
into the mud for the protection stone. It had fallen somewhere. She
scrambled with her fingers, but he was already raising his ax,
already seeing the helplessness in her eyes.

Carine stepped back to run, but her foot
caught the fabric of her cloak, and its string caught around her
neck where she was already tender from the tree. Falling back onto
her hands, her fingers felt the smooth face of the protection
stone. She pulled it close, just in time to ward off the raider’s
ax.

Fire burned within, but it didn’t help Giles.
Rickshaw hit Giles and he thudded to the ground.

The third raider pulled out a dagger. “Now
for their royal hearts...”

The second raider fumed. He pursed his lips
and swung the ax one final time to destroy her. It fell, but
instead of hitting her pained body, the blade bounced back up,
knocking out the raider instead. The centaur’s eyes crossed as his
body processed the blow. His four legs folded beneath him and he
fell in a heap.

Carine released the words, and the pain
rolled away, but her protection stone couldn’t explain the
proactive nature of the magic, knocking out the centaur on its
own.

The third raider hadn’t noticed. He knelt
over David with his dagger at his heart. The dagger leapt from his
grasp and sailed over the hill.

Carine was not touching any Manakor now.
Someone else was doing this.

“What the—” The raider looked up just in time
to see a scorched tree fall on him.

Rickshaw bolted away, still bleeding.

Carine scrambled to the princes. Giles lay
breathing shallowly and completely knocked out. She thanked the
flames he was still alive, though he had bad cuts in his arms and
side.

She turned to David. His helmet lay beside
him in the mud. His wet hair was caked in dirt and blood. There was
a terrible mark on his cheek and a patch of blood tricking from his
forehead.

“David, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, so she took her fingers and
felt his neck for a pulse. The warm, beating rhythm filled her with
relief.

A hooded figure entered the clearing.

Carine’s heart pounded. He had a small frame,
a green cloak, and black gloved hands. The man she recognized as
the sorcerer pulled back his hood. Didda’s face—so familiar, so
loved—stared at her with all the love of a father that missed
her.

“Carine.”

Relief competed with anger. Despite her
suspicions, it was a jarring sight. The sorcerer was Didda. Carine
stood frozen, her hands in fists at her side. The flameless torch
lay at her feet.

“What happened to your hair?” Didda asked, a
slight smile on his lips. He stepped forward, as if to embrace
her.

Carine stepped back and pressed her temple.
It felt strange not to run to his arms at once. For so long, she
had yearned to sit beside her father once again, to embrace him and
know he was safe. But now he stood three feet away and she couldn’t
bring herself to extend her arms. There were questions too big to
overlook. “You’re using Manakor?”

“Don’t be afraid, Carine. I did this all for
you.”

Carine’s stomach turned as Didda mumbled
something, and another azalea sprang up by her foot.

“Did you get the message I sent you the other
night? I thought it might cheer you up. I was hoping that since you
wouldn’t turn back out of fear that you might come home out of
love. I kept asking myself how I would tell you that I—”

“You killed Limly,” she whispered.

He drew back. “That was an accident. I had
only meant to scare you, to make you turn back home to us, but I
lost control, and when the knife struck him…I didn’t know how to
live with myself. After that, I tried to stop speaking Manakor for
the first time...” Didda muttered something, and the flower
withdrew back under the soil.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Didda took a breath. “First, you should know
that I didn’t cut out my heart.”

“I know.” Carine’s voice broke. The emotional
distance between them pained her. She barely knew him.

“These powers were what killed your granddad.
On his deathbed, your mother—not knowing about any of it—brought
him a wishstone that said
long life
.”

“I thought Granddad’s heart gave out.”

“It did. The minute he took the wishstone in
his hand, the pain overwhelmed his system and he died.”

It made sense. If holding the protection
stone hurt that badly for her, a young and healthy girl, it would
be unbearable for a frail elderly man.

“That’s why I always wear gloves.”

“You told me it was because you use knives to
cut leather.” Even as Carine spoke, it made sense. Of course Didda
would want to avoid written Manakor on Esten’s walls.

“The pain is the same reason I told you that
the dragon language kills. I never wanted you to touch a Manakor
word. It’s painful. In a sense, it really does kill. It killed my
father.” He took her hand in his gloves. “The truth is that when
your servant friend died, I swore off Manakor. But I couldn’t not
speak it. Whenever I speak a word in that language, my heart cools.
It feels wonderful. But when I don’t pronounce for a while, I burn.
I thought I would die, so I commanded a flower to grow. Instantly,
my insides cooled. I just…I thought you needed more convincing to
turn around. When I set the vines on you, I thought that would be
it and that you’d turn back for sure.”

“You wanted to scare me away from the
dragon,” she said, tears brimming. “It worked, Didda. You did scare
me. And you’re frightening me now. So what is this? You’re addicted
to the powers?” His eyes closed as the flower grew up again. “When
you told me you didn’t want to frighten me, you just didn’t want me
to know what you’ve done, to see the monster you’ve become.”

“At that time I didn’t want you to find out.”
He patted the back of her hand. “And when I wounded your friend the
prince, there was heartbreak in your eyes, Carine. That broke my
heart too. I never meant to hurt you. This whole time I’ve only
been trying to keep you safe.”

“How long has this been going on? My whole
life?”

“No.” Didda shook his head. “My father warned
me about the dangers. When Selius came to threaten us, I ran to the
nearest wish vendor for a list of translated Manakor words I could
use. I realized I had to study a little before I could extinguish
Selius. Once I did, you and your mother had already left the
house.”

One of the princes groaned. It was Giles,
waking up.

Her heart ached. “What is it that you’re
doing to your love for me? You are soiling it, Didda! You want to
keep me safe but at what cost? Terrorizing Esten? Killing servants?
Destroying cities? Was it you that caused the storm on the
ship?”

“That was a mistake,” he muttered. “I
followed after in a small boat that moved through the water with my
prompting. I caused the storm to turn around the ship, but at that
time I was ill practiced. The storm almost killed you. And I was
not trying to terrorize Esten; I was trying to find you. Thank the
flames your mother found out you’d gone with the princes to the
healing pools.”

Pity poured from within her. Some of her
father’s actions were his fault, and some were the result of the
infectious magic. Carine struggled to discern where the line
was.

“Didda,” she said slowly. “You saved my life
just now when you scared away the raiders, but I need you to stop
speaking Manakor. It’s making you sick.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t scare us back to Esten, because
there is something important here I must do. Navafort needs
Kavariel’s flame, and I need to relight my torch.”

“Not with that beast’s flame. Not you too,
Carine. It’s time to come home.” He muttered something, and the
flower shrank back into the mud.

“Stop that!” Carine hissed. “The
mispronunciation is addictive. It poisons you.”

“Let it,” he said, gripping her arm. She
resisted, but he overpowered his daughter and dragged her across
the red pine needles.

“You’re not yourself!”

Didda only released her once they had
descended the side of the hill away from the dragon. They couldn’t
see the princes up at the crest.

Didda grabbed her shoulders and stared into
her eyes. “Neither are you.” His face seemed to growl, but his
voice was just as calm as ever. “What happened to my prudent
Carine? You are walking toward dragons and making friends with
daredevils. You’re coming back with me right now. You’re not going
to put up a fight. You are going to go home, hug your mother, make
shoes, and be happy.”

“You can’t force me to be—”

“You won’t leave the house. Not until I’ve
seen that you’ve changed back, that you’ll make safe decisions. Do
you understand?” Didda glowered. “You will never see those bad
influences again. You will comfort your worried mother. You will do
what you are supposed to.”

This was going way too far. She watched his
lightly-stubbled cheeks, the same ones she’d examined when he’d
read her bedtime stories. She saw his too-dark eyes, but within
them was a sparkle of love. She put her hand tenderly on his
shoulder. “Didda, I know you’re in there somewhere. I know it hurts
when you don’t speak the language, but you have to stop.”

“
You
obey
me
,” he said wearily.
“Not the other way around. This is the last time I’ll tell you.
Come back with me now, or I will have to do worse than knock out
your beloved royal friends.”

His threat saddened her more than scared her.
She took her hand from his shoulder in revulsion but sighed in her
heart. “I’ll go back with you,” she said. “But not because you
threatened my friends. You need serious help, and I want to help
you, Didda—truly.”

His eyes narrowed as he searched hers.
“Either way, you’ll be safe.”

She forced a smile, seeing a glimpse of his
old self. A breeze sent shivers through her damp hair and clothes.
Clutching her arms, she said, “I left my cloak up there.” Thank the
flames she had. It was her only excuse to see David and Giles one
more time, to shake her father and capture the flame for them so
they could deliver it back to Esten.

“I’ll get it,” Didda said, eyeing her. “You
stay.”

He strode up the gentle slope, but she didn’t
stay put. Carine dodged around Didda. For a split second, anger
silenced him.

“Carine?” Giles called.

Carine shivered, wishing that Manakor would
not tempt Didda to hurt him. She looked back in time to see him
racing after her.

“Carine!” he shouted. “Come back here!”

“Carine?” Giles yelled again.

Carine ran up over the hill’s crest.

“Thank the flames,” Giles breathed.

His reaction touched her heart, but there
wasn’t time for gratitude. “Where’s David?”

Giles straightened his shoulders, a sadness
in his eyes. “He ran off.”

“Dragon’s bane,” she whispered. To get David
to hand over the gullon blood, she had told him that her cloak was
enchanted. It wasn’t. “Did he take my cloak?”

Giles looked down into the glowing clearing,
where the Heartless Ones, like little dots, ebbed ever closer to
Kavariel. “Why? Yours wasn’t green, was it?”

With that, a tree by Giles creaked.

“Move!” Carine yelled, and he did in
time.

She cast a glance back to her father, who
stood, cloak flowing at the top of the hill. Tears filled her
eyes.

“Stay safe,” she said to Giles, and sprinted
down the dragon-side of the hill, only guessing where David might
have gone. She had to set this right.

Carine skidded over pine needles and braced
herself on trees as she descended the hill full speed.

“Carine,” Didda called after her.

She didn’t look back.

“Carine, stop!”

“I have to fix this,” she called back,
doubting he was listening.

She stumbled and ran, padding closer and
closer to her most dreaded place in the world. Ten steps ahead, a
tree cracked in the middle and fell in her path.

“
Stop that!
” she called back to Didda,
who didn’t respond.

Carine pushed up her sleeves and crawled over
the tree. She’d been a fool to tell David her cloak was fireproof.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and under her arms. And she was a fool
now, going unarmed into a swarm of Heartless Ones.

Another tree popped and crashed. She didn’t
bother yelling this time, but when she scrambled over, scraping
herself on the tree’s spear-like branches, Didda scowled behind
her.

“Don’t take one more step, Carine!”

She ignored him again. Didda wouldn’t hurt
her, but every step she took to save David was killing Didda on the
inside. It struck her that this was his worst fear too. Didda’s
only remaining daughter now ran toward the same fire-breathing
dragon that had killed Louise.

She skidded to a halt.

The ground plummeted at her toes. Beyond the
drop, it leveled out and the trees thinned, clearing the view to a
hundred silhouettes: the Heartless Ones. Orange light glowed and
subsided as the gray scales of Kavariel glinted in the
sunlight.

In the corner of her eye, Carine caught a
rush of motion. David was sliding down the slope, cloak on and vial
in fist.

Didda panted behind her. “Please don’t go
down there. Please, Carine, for my sake, for your mother.”

She turned. “I’m sorry,” she said and slid
down the decline.

Gold and other treasures swirled around the
water as the dragon breathed flame. The ground pulsed, the trees
ripped out by their roots, and stones flew toward the dragon’s
wounds. The woods were bare; any woodland creatures had long since
fled or died by now. Kavariel’s flame spurted out, hot and
powerful, engulfing a few Heartless Ones that didn’t shield
themselves in time.