Ghostfire

by Christopher Golden

  She heard the rush of air and glanced toward the Grandmaster to see him in the midst of conjuring. The spell struck the wooden chest and Cassandra jumped back, watching in amazement as the remaining contents of the box flew into the air, unrolling in unison.

  Leander moved out from behind his desk, his robes of scarlet and black billowing around him as he studied each of the many floating documents. One by one, as they proved not to be the map he sought, they fluttered to the floor, discarded.

  “There is no time,” he muttered beneath his breath as he walked among the scrolls. “The fate of all we’ve known hangs in the balance.”

  Leander stiffened and reached out for one of the floating pieces of parchment. “This is it,” he said, turning to her excitedly, and the remaining scrolls fell to the ground. He held the parchment out before him. “Crude, but useful nonetheless.”

  And then the Grandmaster started to laugh, an eerie sound the likes of which she had never heard from him before, and hoped never to hear again.

  “Master Maddox?” she said.

  He looked away from his prize to glare at her, and for a frightening moment she did not recognize him. Then his features relaxed, and the older gentleman she had come to admire and respect had returned.

  “Yes, child?” he answered in a voice that seemed much too weak for a man of his usual vigor.

  “Are you … are you unwell?”

  Leander slowly rolled the scroll. “I’m quite all right,” he told her, forcing a sad smile upon his wan features. “Just a little bit tired. There’s no need for concern, my dear.”

  Yet as she watched him make his way slowly back to his desk, clutching the map to his chest, she wished that she could believe him. For as long as she had known the mage, Cassandra had found him tireless in his exuberance. In fact, she imagined that when the time came for the position of Grandmaster to be passed to her, Leander would be the example upon which she would model her own authority. But something was amiss.

  He slid the last of the scrolls into a leather satchel with other documents they had found over the last three days, a spell of closure keeping the contents sealed tightly away. “I think we’re just about ready to go.”

  She watched him carefully, searching for any clue as to what might be troubling him, but all she could detect was weariness. Perhaps the Grandmaster really was just exhausted, his nerves frayed by the demands of his post.

  Leander glanced at the large timepiece on the wall and then back at her. “Cassandra, please go tell Timothy that it is time.” He gathered up his things. “I shall await him with the other members of the expedition at the main entrance.”

  She bowed her head and left his study. Cassandra thought she had heard Timothy mention something about testing his new invention in one of the open areas at the back of the estate, so she headed in that direction. She bustled along the seemingly endless corridors, hiking up the hem of her emerald green dress so as not to trip as she descended staircase after staircase. To the uninitiated, SkyHaven would be like a maze, but she had made a study of the place upon her arrival following the tragic death of her parents. She doubted that there was any place left in the floating manor that she had yet to see.

  Cassandra descended a set of marble stairs that would take her to the back of the estate through the kitchen. When she entered the room she was a bit surprised that the staff was not hard at work preparing the afternoon meal. Instead, she found them all clustered at the back door, watching with rapt attention some display outside. There was a loud clamor from outside the building, accompanied by a high-pitched whine.

  She made her way toward the gathering, nobody taking notice of her approach, and stood on tiptoe to see over the heads of the servants and cooks. Cassandra laughed softly to herself. Timothy Cade, I should have known, she thought, watching the boy astride a strange contraption that was digging into the earth, tossing dirt here and there.

  Cassandra cleared her throat once, and then a second time, louder. The staff of SkyHaven’s kitchen gradually reacted, reluctantly returning to their jobs, fearful that they would be scolded. She didn’t blame them for their fascination. After all, how often did people see a boy riding a machine that could burrow down into the earth? Not every day. Never, in fact. Not until Timothy Cade had come into their lives. There was really no one like him in the world.

  She stepped through the back door and strolled across the grass toward the gathering of Timothy’s friends, who now stood around the hole he had dug, marveling at his latest accomplishment. Cassandra hoped Timothy was smart enough to know when to stop the machine. SkyHaven was a floating island, and if he dug too deeply he could find himself breaking through the bottom and falling into the ocean below. What a sight that would be, she thought, and had to stifle a giggle.

  “Does he know when to stop?” she asked aloud, cupping her hands over her mouth and raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the digging machine.

  Verlis glanced at Ivar, and the Asura then looked at Sheridan.

  Edgar, who was perched upon the mechanical man’s shoulder, flew into the air and landed on her waiting arm.

  “Are you serious?” the rook asked, speaking loudly. “After everything he’s done, you still have to ask that question?” The bird shook his head in disgust.

  “I meant no disrespect. I just want to be sure he’s careful.”

  Edgar ruffled his feathers indignantly. “The kid’s a genius. Of course he knows not to go too far.”

  And as if on cue, the engine of the digging machine cut out and the sound of another, far quieter, device kicked in. Cassandra leaned forward and gazed into the hole to see that the machine was now ascending. The new sound was that of its wheels slowly turning, backing the craft up and bringing it to the surface.

  “See,” Edgar said to her. “Nothing to worry about. He knew just when to stop.”

  The digging machine backed out of the hole and up onto the grass. Timothy busied himself turning knobs and switching levers to shut down his invention’s power source.

  “Good thing I remembered to stop,” Timothy said, removing the goggles from his eyes and jumping down from the craft to the ground. “I was so excited that it was working, I almost kept going.”

  Cassandra arched an eyebrow and smirked, glancing at Edgar, who quickly looked away, flying from his perch on her arm to the top of the boy’s head.

  “Good job, kid,” the rook cawed. “The Burrower worked like a charm, just like I knew it would.”

  “Thanks, Edgar,” the boy said, beaming.

  Verlis approached the machine, resting a claw upon its metal surface. “Fascinating,” he growled. And he then looked toward the boy. “As are you, Timothy Cade, as are you.” He then walked to the tunnel dug into the ground and peered down into the darkness.

  Ivar and Sheridan went to congratulate Timothy next, but Cassandra hung back, not sure that Timothy had even noticed she was there. The breeze whipped her red hair across her face and she pushed it away from her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to tame it.

  “Did you see?” he asked, striding toward her with a grin on his face. “It worked just as I’d hoped.”

  Cassandra smiled in return. “It’s incredible.” She wanted to say more but was having difficulty finding the right words with Timothy so close and smiling at her like that.

  What’s happening to me? she pondered, on the verge of panic.

  Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Timothy quickly looked away, scratching the back of his head nervously. He turned his focus back to the Burrower. “Can’t wait to tell Leander it worked,” he said, reminding her why she had come to find him.

  “Oh, right,” Cassandra said, her hand quickly going to her mouth. “With all the excitement, I almost forgot. They’re ready to leave now. The expedition to Tora’nah … they’re waiting for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Timothy couldn’t have picked a better moment to take his leave.

  Across the rich green lawn, he saw
Leander’s personal assistant, Carlyle, appear at the open kitchen door, his face flushed with annoyance. Timothy quickly snatched his satchel up from the ground and looked inside to be sure he had everything he’d need for his journey.

  “Timothy Cade!” Carlyle shouted, hurrying toward them.

  “I think Verlis and I had better be going,” he told his friends, and Cassandra. He caught her eye as he said his farewells, and she quickly looked away, pretending to be studying the clouds in the sky.

  Strange, he thought, before concentrating on more important matters.

  “Be sure to bring the Burrower back to the workshop,” he told Sheridan, Ivar, and Edgar.

  “Not to worry, Timothy,” Sheridan said, release valve hissing. “I’ll be sure to give it a thorough cleaning so that it is in tip-top shape when you return.”

  Ivar was already working on getting the craft back up onto the wheeled cart they had used to haul it from the workshop.

  “What in the name of the blessed mage have you done to the grounds?” Carlyle yelled in a shrill voice. “When Grandmaster Maddox hears of this…”

  “You think he’s talking about the hole?” Edgar asked from his favorite place atop Sheridan’s metal head. If the rook could have smiled, Timothy was certain he would have.

  “Think so,” the boy answered, backing away from the gathering.

  “Hrrrrm. He sounds upset,” Verlis growled, scratching his leathery chin with a clawed hand. “Perhaps you should explain the—”

  Timothy gripped the Wurm at his elbow. The rough, scaled skin was strangely cool to the touch. “Perhaps we should get away from here as quickly as we can.”

  “Timothy Cade!” Carlyle shouted again, almost upon them.

  Edgar flew toward him, circling around the stocky man’s head. Carlyle waved his hands in the air, obviously enraged. “I have no desire to speak with you, bird. I want to talk to the boy!”

  “Maybe you are right,” Verlis replied, and the Wurm opened his great wings, grabbing Timothy beneath the arms.

  As Verlis lifted him up, wings flapping heavily, churning the air, Timothy noticed that Cassandra was looking at him. Once again he experienced that odd sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  “Luck be with you,” she called over the pounding of the dragon’s wings, and he waved good-bye to her just as Verlis soared skyward with him.

  Carlyle had reached the hole the Burrower had made and was gesticulating wildly. It appeared that Sheridan and Cassandra were attempting to calm him, but to little avail. Timothy almost felt bad leaving them to deal with the rather unpleasant man.

  Almost, he thought with a chuckle.

  Verlis winged his way around to the front of the sprawling fortress and remembered the first time he had ever seen SkyHaven. It hadn’t been that long ago, but in a way, after all that he had seen and experienced, it felt like a lifetime. Timothy wondered what still lay ahead for him, what wonders and horrors he had yet to experience. These were exciting times for a boy who was raised in near solitude.

  “There they are,” Timothy yelled over the sound of the wind in his ears and the beating of wings. He felt Verlis’s grip beneath his arms tighten.

  Two sky carriages hovered in front of SkyHaven, and members of the expedition traveling to Tora’nah milled about the crafts. The Wurm angled his body earthward, and they began their descent.

  The ground came up at them quickly, and Timothy instinctively closed his eyes, fearing that they would not be able to stop in time. Just as it seemed too late, Verlis spread his great wings wide, cutting the speed of his descent and allowing them to glide safely to the ground.

  Timothy adjusted the strap of the satchel he wore slung over his shoulder and checked to see that the metal clasp was still fastened. He wanted to be certain that he hadn’t lost any of his notes or drawings in flight with Verlis. Everything was fine.

  The boy looked up to see Leander Maddox walking toward them, his hands clasped behind his back. Timothy felt a surge of excitement, quickening his pace to meet up with the Grandmaster, eager to share the news of his latest success. It had been Leander who had assigned the boy the difficult task of designing and building a machine that could dig down into earth, but that was not powered by magic.

  He hurried to the burly mage, barely able to contain his excitement. “The Burrower, it works,” he blurted out. “I tested it in the back of the fortress and it went perfectly. The hole was smooth and deep. It’s a good thing I stopped when I did, because I could have kept right on going and dug straight through and Carlyle showed up and—”

  Timothy’s ramble came to an abrupt stop as he watched Leander bring his wrist up to his face to gaze briefly upon a timepiece fastened there.

  “You’re late,” the Grandmaster said shortly, barely hiding his irritation. He clasped his large hands behind his back again. “Didn’t Cassandra inform you that we were ready to leave?”

  Timothy could have blamed Cassandra, but he did not want to get her into trouble, so he nodded. “Yes, but we were testing my machine and…” He stopped, realizing that he had no real excuse. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Leander. I guess we just lost track of time.”

  The big man said nothing, and Timothy looked up to see him gazing off into space, one of his hands slowly stroking the coarse hair of his bushy red beard.

  “Leander?” Timothy said softy, looking off in the same direction and seeing nothing but blue sky and the churning ocean. “Are … are you all right?”

  The Grandmaster started as if awakened from a dream and gazed again at his timepiece. “We have no time for this foolishness,” he growled, abruptly turning around and walking toward the other members of the expedition and his waiting sky carriage. “We must depart at once if we are to reach Tora’nah by the morrow.”

  Verlis moved up alongside him. “Is all well between you and Grandmaster Maddox?” he asked the boy.

  Timothy did not answer at once, mulling over Verlis’s question. He had noticed slight changes in his friend and mentor over the last few days, but nothing to really cause him concern. This, however, was something else entirely.

  “I’m not sure,” he whispered, watching as the Grandmaster went to his sky carriage and spoke to Caiaphas, his navigation mage.

  When Leander had gone on to the second sky carriage to speak to the others who were a part of the expedition, Caiaphas motioned for Timothy and Verlis to approach.

  “Master Timothy,” the navigator said with a slight bow of his head. The lower portion of the navigation mage’s face was covered in a dark blue veil, but his voice was pleasant enough to let the boy know he was smiling. At least someone seemed happy to see him. “Great Verlis,” the navigator then said, addressing the dragon.

  Verlis responded in kind, ruffling his leathery wings as he lowered his horned head in a bow of greeting.

  “Grandmaster Maddox has informed me that we are to leave at once,” Caiaphas said, pushing up the long sleeves of his blue robes, readying himself to cast the spells used to lift and propel the carriage. “And that you and Verlis are to ride with him inside.”

  The driver motioned toward the lower portion of the carriage, and a spark leaped from one of his fingertips. The door into the vehicle swung open slowly to admit them.

  The Wurm leaped back from the sky carriage. “I will not ride within this contraption,” Verlis growled, shaking his large, horned head. “I will fly to Tora’nah under my own power.”

  Caiaphas folded his hands upon his lap. “I’m afraid that will not do. Grandmaster Maddox gave precise instruction that you were to ride inside the carriage.”

  Trails of smoke began to rise from Verlis’s flaring nostrils. “I will not fly within this … this box,” he spat, and Timothy could see that the Wurm’s anger was on the rise.

  The boy placed a calming hand upon Verlis’s arm. “Can you tell us why he wants this?” Timothy asked the navigator, keeping his voice soft so as not to arouse the interests of the others around them. />
  Caiaphas brought one of his hands to his covered mouth, reflecting momentarily before speaking. “In no disrespect to you, great Verlis, the Grandmaster believes that you will appear more … civilized if you were to travel in the same manner as the others in the expedition.”

  “Civilized?” Verlis barked, and hissing streams of burning orange spittle, liquid fire, began to leak from the sides of his mouth.

  “Calm yourself,” Timothy said quickly, his voice still low. “You already know what they think of you—the other mages of Parliament.”

  “They think me a monster,” Verlis replied. “A savage beast not fit to walk amongst them.”

  “Exactly,” Timothy said. “Look at this as a chance to prove them wrong again.”

  The Wurm sneered, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. “But to ride inside this … thing.” He gestured toward the carriage.

  “I will attempt to make your journey as pleasant and as comfortable as it is within my power to do so,” Caiaphas said, raising his hands. Indigo magic arced from the tips of his fingers.

  Verlis said nothing, glaring at the carriage, as if preparing to challenge it to battle.

  “Prove them wrong,” Timothy whispered again.

  As if sensing discord, Leander approached.

  “Is there a problem?” the Grandmaster asked, looking from Timothy to Verlis.

  Many of the other representatives of Parliament who were a part of the expedition were watching them now. Timothy tensed. This was not the time for Verlis to lose his temper. The Parliament already feared the descendents of the Dragons of Old. One Wurm was bad enough, but now there were dozens of them on Terra, all of Verlis’s clan, who had fled Draconae and the brutality of Raptus. Now wasn’t the time for trouble.

  “No,” Verlis stated firmly, moving to squeeze his large frame through the doorway into the sky carriage. “There is no problem at all.”

  Timothy did not know whether it was the fact that he had stayed up all night putting the finishing touches on the Burrower prototype, or the relief that the digging device worked, but he found himself growing incredibly sleepy as the sky carriage flew above the clouds on its journey south. Though he tried to fight it, he found his eyelids growing heavy, and eventually closing.