The Firebrand Legacy (23 page)

Carine barely noticed the pain from the
stone.

The dragon opened its mouth. His breath had
the scent of a garden, and from his tongue, Carine heard—or
felt—what could only be described as music. The wind whistled as
the great dragon inhaled. Carine’s clothes and short hair flapped
toward him, so she thought for a moment they both might be swept
into his mouth by the wind.

It stopped. For a moment, all was still.

Like a long sigh, the dragon breathed. Fire
danced on his breath. Unlike the jet stream that had engulfed the
Heartless Ones, this fire emerged in a gentle wave.

Carine clenched the protection stone as the
orange flames engulfed them.

It did not sear. It did not burn. The wish
protected them, so the fire danced over Carine’s arms like warm
water. It tickled her face and filled her nose like fresh air. What
felt like music also swept over her like a choir. She had never
experienced anything so beautiful.

Sweat dripped from her forehead as David fell
to his knees in reverence. Carine carefully held tight to his arm,
aware that letting go or dropping the wishstone would mean their
instant deaths. The fire of the power burned within, but the
magnificence of the beast made every moment worth it.

A voice emerged within the harmony. It spoke
in Manakor, stirring her soul. She did not understand the sounds,
but she understood one word:
Karin
. It was her name. Nothing
had ever sounded so familiar or so pure.

Carine shook as she held tight, and from his
knees, David lifted the vial. For good reason, he no longer felt
the need to shoot the gullon blood into the dragon’s mouth. He
uncurled his fingers, and the vial, as if called by the dragon,
floated against the current of the brilliant fire into the dragon’s
mouth.

Carine struggled to keep her eyes open. They
felt dry and clean at once, and as comfortable as Carine would be
in closing them, she couldn’t bring herself to will it. The bright
light embraced her. Carine wished, in that sweet moment, that this
embrace, not burning, had been the experience of her sister’s last
moments.

Karin
, said the voice through the
song. Carine realized at once that her name was not merely one word
of the melody. It was instead the song itself. Every other sound
only probed deeper into that word. She fell to her knees too.

No one would ever know this sublime joy.

The pain of the wishstone burst within her.
She braced her body, telling it to be patient, but the fire burned
too strong within. She dared not let the wishstone go, because all
she wanted was more of this beauty—more, more, more—forever.

The brilliant light and waves folded away,
leaving Carine and David kneeling alone on the scorched ground.

Outside the fire, the air was bare and cruel.
The heat of the wishstone burned even stronger now, with the fierce
contrast of the cold outer world. Carine did not release, wishing
that the dragon would turn his head around and breathe on them
again.

The dragon rolled in the healing pool as
steam plumed from his scales. With a thrash of his wings, he lifted
from the pool. He pushed up with his legs. His whole glorious body
was whole again, completely healed. He shrieked in elation,
lighting up the sky with a yellow stream of fire.

Then, just like that, he disappeared into the
sky, and that was the last Carine knew.

Her body must have understood that she was
underwater. She shot up, gasping for air. Her face broke through
the surface of the healing pool as she sat in a foot of the most
crystal water she had ever seen.

Giles stood at the water’s edge, holding a
lit torch. David was calf-deep in the pool, hands on her
shoulders.

“Thank the flames,” he said. “You made it.”
David’s brown eyes sparkled, and she felt that he must still be
reeling from what they had experienced amidst the flame. Giles
looked satisfied too and proud as ever. The torch dazzled in his
grip. The light he carried would save Navafort.

“Excellent work,” Giles said, grinning ever
so slightly.

Carine shot up from the water, wanting
desperately to hug them. She pulled them both in her arms. David
laughed and hugged back. Giles stood still as a pole, but he did
not push them away.

“When the fire engulfed you,” Giles said, “I
thought you both were dead.”

Carine leaned back and smiled. “So did
I.”

“You almost didn’t make it, Carine,” David
told her. “You collapsed right after the dragon flew off. Thank the
flames the healing pools were right here, or I don’t know what we
would’ve done. Come on.”

Bodies of the Heartless Ones lay scattered
over the drying mud and sand. Between the bodies lay coins and
weapons that a few centaurs were now snatching up.

David helped Carine out of the healing pool,
but as soon as she stepped onto dry land, she froze. There was a
familiar green cloak laying in a pile.

“No,” she breathed.

David hesitated. “Firebrand’s heir didn’t
make it.” He spoke the name with purpose, keeping Carine’s
secret.

“Serves him right,” Giles said. “All that
power finally killed him. As you two approached the flame, he
mispronounced so fast that he was spitting. When you went in, he
tried something else, but whatever it was didn’t work, and he fell
over, dead.”

Carine was hardly listening. She strode to
his frail, pale body and turned it over. Didda’s face was finally
peaceful, and the blood that stained his clothes was starting to
dry. She held his collar and wept for him, but nothing reawakened
his soul.

“You are very empathetic,” Giles said as she
searched through the stones for the one that said
healing
.
Holding it and touching the body, nothing changed, but even the
pain of the Manakor paled in comparison to her heartbreak.

Didda had loved and protected Carine to the
end. But Carine didn’t consider today as the day that her Didda
really died. He had been poisoned little by little by his
mispronunciation. She watched his face, peaceful now after so many
days of frenzied anxiety, and vowed never to mispronounce. Her
father’s slow corruption would not be in vain. She would never
follow that treacherous path, and she would always remember the
sacrifices—however misguided—that he’d made for her sake. She was
now the heir to Firebrand’s legacy, and she would let the bloodline
end with her.

When ready and with David’s help, Carine
pushed the peaceful corpse into the healing pool, covered him in
the few blooms she could find, and washed him in the purest water.
She brought her fingers to her lips and her heart, and then
released them out as he floated farther and farther away.

It was fall. The trees were bright red and
orange, and the crisp fall air sent a pleasant breeze through
Esten. Carine and her mom were wrapped in their cloaks as they
crossed the repaired bridge into South Esten. Ahead, the tall
limestone dragon breathed onto a torch. This time, it was lit.

“What was it like?” Mom had asked in hushed
tones in the dark. Ever since Didda died, they shared the mattress
and often fell asleep talking about the places Carine had seen and
the beautiful memories they had had with Didda.

“Magical,” Carine had answered, watching her
mom blink from her pillow, “in a good way.”

Mom had smiled and sighed.

“Did you know about Didda’s magic?” Carine
found the strength to ask.

Mom shook her head sadly. “I didn’t know
until just after you left Esten the second time. I didn’t know why
he was always so strict about Manakor and Festival, but once you
left for the dragon, I was terrified. He ran down the street after
the horses you were on with the princes. When I told him where you
went, he whispered that language and blasted a brick wall.”

Mom shivered, even now.

“I don’t think he meant to become addicted to
it. By the time I figured out that he had the powers, he was
already racing after you, mumbling to himself about how to get you
home safe. When he left, Esten settled down for a while. I waited
at home and fixed it up as best I could.” She met Carine’s eyes,
the depth of her love and fear piercing to the core. “When I heard
the princes had returned to the city, I told myself I had to resist
going to the castle to see you, just in case you weren’t with them.
And then you walked through that door.”

Mom squeezed Carine close and kissed her
forehead.

Even though the windows were fixed and the
shoes replenished by Carine’s hard hours at work, everything about
the house made Carine feel that something was missing. It was a
similar feeling to when Louise had died, but this time, there was
something redemptive about it too. When Louise died, the family
collapsed into hiding and darkness.

But this time, the shoe shop seemed always
full of light, not because of Didda’s death but in spite of it.
Carine was different now. This time, Mom and Carine spent most of
their time outside: Carine with the princes, and Mom with her
estranged family and friends.

Carine held Mom’s hand. Carine always wore
gloves now, like Didda, because she didn’t want to accidentally
touch a Manakor word, and because, in a strange way, it made her
feel connected to him. Shoemaking also gave her that deep sense of
connection, so she decided to stay with that career—at least for
now.

Giles suggested that all the knights buy from
Carine’s shop, so she was swamped with orders, especially when she
agreed to give the knights a discount in exchange for tutoring in
the Bastion. David and Giles agreed to share their tutor, Alviar,
and once a week, the centaur trained her in the Bastion’s cramped
library. She studied history, science, math, and most importantly,
Manakor.

To her relief, Alviar never asked her to
pronounce in lessons. She merely studied the one hundred published
words, memorizing, reading, writing, and learning how the words
have affected nature. He told her and the princes stories of the
voyage home from Ilmaria where he and Marcel had taken refuge.

As Carine and Mom approached Bastion Park,
where the ceremony was to begin, they threaded their way through
crowds. At the base of the tower stood Prince Marcel, lavishly
clothed like a hero with a shiny helmet, holding his sword to open
the sword fighting championship. His practiced smile met the
applause of the crowd. His Majesty King Marcel placed a hand on his
heir’s shoulder, beaming as though Marcel had been the one to save
the kingdom. Of course, everyone believed that Marcel was the
hero.

The king knew the truth, as did Alviar, who,
standing loyally at Prince Marcel’s side, bowed slightly to Carine,
making eye contact.

“It was through true heroism,” said King
Marcel, “that my grandson delivered this enchanted flame to protect
our noble city. These matches will

test our knights’ heroism and skill as
well.”

Mom made knowing eyes at Carine. She smiled
back. Two cloaked figures sidled up beside her.

“Psst.”

In the shadow of his hood, Carine
distinguished David’s face.

“Hello, Carine,” said Giles, who was not as
overflowing with affection but carried his delight in a muted
smile.

Carine beamed. “Aren’t you supposed to be up
front?”

David took her gloved hand. “Yeah, but
there’s something you have to see.”

Mom shrugged when Carine silently asked for
permission to go, so she wound through the crowd behind the
princes. In another five minutes, she had climbed the wide, white
steps of the dragon’s tail. She followed the princes through a
doorway within the tower and up a winding spiral staircase to the
top and stopped outside a closed door.

“Remember how you said the views from the
Bastion were great?” David asked. He swung the door open and light
flooded in.

Carine stepped onto the balcony, an enormous
white plate beside the carved dragon’s magnificent teeth. A flame
burned in the middle of the plate. She stared at the dragon’s form,
and then met David’s eyes. They hadn’t talked about their
experiences in the flame, but it had forged a bond between them
that she couldn’t explain.

“Look,” he said, gesturing out to the
sea.

The breeze coolly ruffled their clothes as
Carine stood as close to the edge of the plate as she dared.

The blue, calm sky stretched large and
beautiful

over the endless ocean and precise horizon.
On her left, the ships looked small. Across the plate behind her
were the buildings of Esten, which had once been the only city she
thought she’d ever know. Beyond the marshes and the autumn trees,
she thought she could distinguish a speck of light from another
tower on the border.

Her past was small and dim, but with her
friends at her side, her present was full, bright, and alive.

“I want to see Kavariel next year when he
flies over during Festival,” she said, wondering what Louise would
think of that if she were alive now, wondering if Louise would have
come with her to the healing pools, wondering if she could ever
sort out her mixed feelings of dragons and magic.

Giles raised an eyebrow, but his smile
revealed amusement. “Then of course you should join us at the
Bastion. Festival inside the castle is a much finer experience than
out in the streets.”

“Okay,” she said, ready for anything now. She
stretched out her arms and let the breeze surround her.

“But you do realize that the dragon will be
there?” David teased.

“Let’s hope so.”

“And there will be wishstones and
enchantments.”

“Yes, I realize,” she said as David grinned.
She had learned that it wasn’t the enchantment itself that was
dangerous, but how it was used.

“And there will be crowds and food and
dancing.”