The Last Dragon Chronicles: Fire World: Fire World (15 page)

something.”

He nodded and cast his gaze over the book. “Are they firebirds – in armour? Warbirds or something?”

“No.   They’re
 
dragons
 
. And they’re actually very spiritual.”

“With jaws like that?”

“David, will you just shut up and listen! The firebirds
 
gave
 
me this book. Well, actually, one of them dropped it on you. I didn’t know why until just before the quake. I found a door to Floor 43. Do you remember… about the upper floors and stuff?”

“Yes, I think so. You’ve been up to the

roof?”

“No. The door is locked, but the key to it is in this book – I think. Come on, I’ll show you. I want to try it.” She bounced to her feet.

“Wait. Where’s Mr Henry?”

“Haven’t seen him,” she said.

“Well, shouldn’t we go and find him? He could contact my dad. He knows about time.”

“Later,”   Rosa   insisted.   “This   is exciting.” She tapped the book. “Come on, we’ll try the door then surprise Mr Henry with it.”

David stood up (a little unsteadily) andlooked at his reflection as Rosa had done.

“Wow,” he said, turning his face left and right. “How has this
 
happened
? That’s amazing.”

“Not the adjective I would have used,”

she said. “But you’ll do.”

At the end of the corridor on Floor 42, thedoor was just as locked as ever.

“No keyhole,” David said.

“Yeah, I kinda spotted that,” Rosa said. “I think it opens with a command.”

David struck a commanding pose. “Open up!” he shouted, with his armsextended.

Rosa   dropped  her   shoulders.   “A
special
 
command, idiot. Sleep hasn’timproved you, has it? You’re basicallystill a boy in a man’s body.”

“Yeah, and what are you?”

She tossed her hair to one side andchose not to answer. “Stand back. Let me

have a go.” She placed a hand upon the

door and spread her fingers. “Sometimes,” she whispered.

To her dismay, nothing happened.

“Was that it?” David said.

Rosa stood away, sighing. “I don’t understand. It should have worked. It was so strong in my mind when I turned the pages.” She banged her fist lightly on the door.

“Have you tried that?”

“Tried what?”

“That – knocking.”

She swung around, anger blazing in her eyes. “Will you please take this seriously! I sat by you for ages while you were asleep, never knowing if you were going to die or not. So just—  What are you gawping at?” His gaze was roaming all over her face.

“You’re really pretty, aren’t you? Especially when you’re angry.”

She gulped, then whacked him in the chest with the book. “Concentrate, will you? On the door, I mean. Look, if you flick through the pages of the book it makes a symbol come alive in one corner. I’m sure it means ‘sometimes’ in dragon language. I thought it would get us in if I said it. I was wrong. Let’s go and ask Mr Henry.”

“Wait.” He caught her arm. “Show me the symbol.”

“I daren’t,” she said, running her hair behind one ear.

“Why not?”

“For all I know, it was me that caused the time quake.”

“With a symbol?”

She pointed to the dragon on the cover

of  the  book.   “These   creatures   are

powerful, David.”

“OK. Maybe it’s the
 
symbol
 
that opens

the door?”

With a sigh, she thrust the book at him. “All right. You try it. But if I end up withwrinkles, you’re history. Got it?”

He smiled and opened the book.

“There,” she said, pointing out themarks. “Flick fast. See what comes intoyour head when it appears.”

And so, without further ado, Davidturned the pages as Rosa had done. Onceagain, the three-lined symbol appeared. Itseemed to float off the pages as the inkmarks came together.

Rosa, her breath held, looked at thedoor. Nothing. And, thankfully, she hadn’t

aged a day. “Did you get a meaning?”

David stared at the symbol, then at the door. “Yes,” he said. And he spoke it, deep in his throat:
 
Rrrh
 
!

With a centuries-old creak, the door to Floor 43 finally clicked open.

2

The same could be said of Rosa’s mouth,though that
fell
 
open rather than clicked. “How did you do that? You made a noiselike a firebird.”

“I heard it in my head when I saw thesymbol.”

“The firebirds talk
 
dragontongue
?”

“Don’t know,” he said, lifting hisshoulders. “I just heard the noise. And adifferent translation. ‘Sometimes’ is thenearest we can get to it in Co:pern:ican. Itreally means ‘all things that are possibleare probable’. And it’s…
 
big
.”

“Big?” she prompted him, becomingimpatient. She glanced at the door, barelyopen a crack. It was moving slightly as if

a breeze was blowing from the other side.

Like you could imagineer a universe by saying it
, he thought. But instead he said this, “It sounded like Runcey with a sore throat. Is he… ?”

“Runcey’s fine,” Rosa sighed. “And much as I love this idle chit-chat, can we do it another time, please?” She gestured towards the door.

“OK, go on. I’ll follow you in.”

“Uh uh,” she said, clutching her arms, “you first.”

“Why should
 
I
 
go first? You’re the one who’s keen on doing the exploring.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“My point exactly!”

“Oh, David, just… open the door.” She put herself behind him and shoved.

Warily, he gripped the old brass handle

and opened the door just wide enough to poke his head around it.

“What can you see?”

He waved her quiet. “Bones. The bones of a thousand dragons.”

“
 
Whaaat?
 
”

He pulled his head back. “Oh, and some

books.”

With one big push, he swung the door

open.

He wasn’t lying (about the books). Rosa stepped past (having whacked him again) into a room full of written wonder. It smelled of dust and paper and wood, of sunlight on wood, of the settlement of age. It was enormous; ten times the size of any room she’d seen on the lower floors. Strangely, the shelves here were set within the body of the room and could be

accessed from either side, it seemed. Dozens of them, placed at angles, like a maze. All of them neatly-arranged with books.

“Wow,” Rosa said, trailing her fingers over a few spines.

David, following just a few steps behind her, was reading the names of the authors. “They’re in order,” he muttered.

“This is amazing,” Rosa said, taking no notice. “Why do you think its been hidden from us?” She disappeared from view around the end of a shelf.

“Rosa, we should stay together,” he warned her. They were used to the peculiarities of the floors they knew. But this was different. There was something strange about these books. David could feel them pulling him in all directions,

whispering, as if they were begging to be read. He ran to catch up, but Rosa was several shelves ahead already and all he saw was a swish of her skirt. He doubled

his pace and called out again. His voice, lifted by the space around him, drifted into the high ceiling. Looking up, he saw patterns in the ancient plasterwork. A system of stars. Planets. A universe. Flying long and flat amongst the stars, were dragons.

With a bump, he found Rosa again.

“Watch where you’re going,” she tutted. She flicked her hair off her shoulder and

showed him a book. “These are weird. I

can’t make out their genre.”

He took it from her as she walked

away.
 
Alicia in a Land of Wonder.
 
Inside was the normal printed text, but here and

there were drawings of quite grotesque people in even more grotesque clothing, plus what appeared to be pictures of animals, though the only one David faintly recognised was a katt with an oversized, hideous grin. “Did you read any of this?”

“No,” Rosa said, scanning the shelves higher up.

“It’s got amazing auma. Do you think anyone will miss it?”

Before Rosa could respond, their attention was drawn by a clanking sound further down the room. A firebird had

landed on a large metal sign suspended by two long chains from the ceiling. It let out a shrill
 
rrrh
 
!

“Oh no,” Rosa gasped. “That’s the red

one that attacked you. Run!”

“Wait,” David said, but she had already

gone. With a whoosh, the bird took off, leaving the sign swinging and the chains creaking. The last thing David became aware of before he ran off in pursuit of Rosa was the lettering on the sign, beating its rhythm against his eyes:

‘FICTION’

3

The red firebird, Azkiar, swooped lowover David’s head and landed on a shelf

stack, throwing up multiple clouds of dust. Unsure whether to run or confront it, David found himself stumbling down unexplored lanes between the shelves. He was going to be lost, very quickly, he knew. But at least he was drawing the bird away from Rosa. If she could make it to the door she would be free to bring help. And what was the worst that could

happen: more sleep?

When he turned down a lane that ended in a wall, he realised that question would soon have an answer. He skidded to a halt, turned and looked back. Azkiar had

landed on the uppermost shelf at the far end of the lane. David backed up until the wall stopped him. He was half-concealed in shadow, but darkness appeared to offer little protection. He could see the bird’s sharp eyes adjusting to the light. Making hardly a sound, it opened its wings and glided closer, crossing to the shelves on the opposite side. Now it was just four sections away – twenty paces at most.

Books.   They  were   David’s   only defence. He hated the idea of using them as missiles, but what other choice did he have? He was still holding onto
 
Alicia in a Land of Wonder
 
, but that was quite small as literary weapons went. He grabbed another one of better weight and turned to face the bird. “Stay back. I don’t want to hurt you. I mean no harm here. I…

I like books.” And how hypocritical wasthat, with four hundred pages of somethingby the author
 
Steven Kinge
 
ready to belaunched from the end of his arm?

Azkiar fluttered across the lane once

more.
 
Too close
, David thought. He hurled

the
 
Kinge
.

Before he could grab for another, he

bore witness to one of the most dramatic

and distressing events of his life. As the book flew fowards, Azkiar unlatched his jaw and let forth a burst of orange fire. It engulfed the book while it was still in mid-air and turned it into a crackling fireball. A small corner of the spine, not instantly consumed, fell to the floor and jumped around painfully as the flames fizzled out. Black leaves edged with bright red cinders drifted in flurries over

the shelves. A small part of the librarium had been destroyed. All around him, David could sense the building’s sorrow. He could almost hear pages folding in grief.

“What do you want?” he shouted.

Azkiar  responded  by  leaving  the shelves and hovering in the air in front of David. The bird’s ear tufts were up and glowing scarlet; the frills around his neck like spikes of steel. There was anger and passion in his tapering gaze. The kind of look that said trespassers were definitely not welcome. David took a deep breath. He had nothing but his honesty with which to shield himself now. He stepped forward, out of the shadows.

He braced himself for a burst of fire, but it did not happen. Instead, a subtle

change   occurred   in   the   firebird’s expression. It tipped its beak down and brought its eyes more central to its head. Those eyes grew very round indeed and blinked several times before settling to a stare. Whatever mech:anism governed the way they took in light extended to its maximum, making the eyeballs shine like mirrors – until David could see himself

reflected in them, playing back like a pinsized movie.

Was he imagineering this or did thebird look puzzled?

“Please,” he tried again. “I mean you noharm. Let me go and I’ll—”

He never got the chance to complete hissentence. With incredible versatility ofmovement, the firebird turned, rose up andflew away.