“Don’t come closer!”
They don’t stop, lurching towards me like dumb, mindless beasts. By now I’m almost hyperventilating, and the stench of unhealthy animal is so overpowering that my body starts to shake with the urge to retch.
“Stop!”
The biggest monster heaves closer until it’s standing right beside me. And then, in a deliberate, terrifying movement, it begins to lengthen its serpentine neck towards me.
“No!”
Horribly, its neck lengthens even further.
And then, in a flash, it strikes out.
I scream in terror, only to realize that I don’t feel any pain. And not because my magic is protecting me, I’m astonished to find, but because the movement of the creature’s giant snakehead is more like a cat rubbing up against me than a reptile attacking.
Even as my body shudders at the contact, I realize that my mind is clearing, the flood of my panic receding. Somehow, the monster’s gentle touch seems to be neutralizing the worst of my terror.
“Oh!” It takes a while before I can get my voice to work. “Just… Easy, okay? Be careful—–” As the words leave my mouth, I catch the evil red glint in another monster’s eye and find myself choking on my fear.
What am I doing, talking to these things as if they can hear me?
Why am I just standing here? I should be running for my life!
But then the horrible thing pushes its ugly head into my side again, and…
Oh, God.
I remember.
Chapter 22
For the Horror shall shew great signs and wonders: flesh shall be restored and great tribulation spared. But be not deceived by its great lies; believe it not.
The Old Words: Verse 24:24
This time I don’t fall into a remembering trance.
What happens is far simpler and more painful. A smoky veil of denial and cowardice is torn from my mind, and I suddenly remember, plainly and clearly, what I made myself forget with the help of Jack Pendragon and the half-dragons’ magic.
I know this monster.
We’ve met before.
Inside this horrible snakehead resides the mind and the spirit of Jonathan’s beautiful sister.
“Amber?” I ask, all the hairs on my body suddenly standing on end. “Is that you?”
The creature makes a low, moaning sound.
“It is you,” I say, my voice now a little more certain. “Oh, Amber. I remember!”
*
It happened about three months ago.
At the time I was still under the Pendragon Enthrallment, an enormously powerful spell which wiped all knowledge of dragons from my mind. We had survived the attack in the desert and the desperate flight back home, and back at the Pendragon compound I had used my firemagic to save Ingrid and my Skykeepers.
When I woke up from my resting state after that, I was feeling isolated and lonely because of all the time I’d lost, and then, almost as soon as I opened my eyes, Jonathan asked me to use my firemagic again—–this time to save his father’s life.
I remember being frustrated by the idea of losing more time to my resting state, but there was no way I could refuse. Jack Pendragon was dying because he had thrown himself in front of a sniper’s bullet to save my life, and I owed him.
At the time I had no earthmagic of my own, but I got around the problem that night by stoking Principal Sweeney’s dragonfire to the point where his magic was powerful enough to Heal Jack Pendragon’s wounds. It all went so smoothly that I thought I’d probably only lose a day or so to my resting state, and I returned to my room in a pretty good mood, hoping that all the weirdness would soon be over.
I was half-way up the dramatically curved black marble staircase, Zig as always on my heels, muttering darkly about the evil and unnatural acts I’d just committed, when Jonathan came running after me. “Jess. Wait. I need another favor. Please.”
“I’m really tired, Jonathan.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
I sighed, knowing I was trapped. It was Jonathan who’d saved us from the Skykeepers’ attack by stealing his father’s private jet and using his Enthrallment skills to hide us from the White Lady. I owed him as much as I owed his father, and we both knew it.
“What do you want?”
“You have to save my sister.”
“You have a sister?” I was astonished by the idea.
“Yes, and she’s dying. You have to help her.”
I rubbed my neck, trying to ease some tension. Firemagic isn’t inherently a Healing magic, so what he asked of me was more difficult than he realized. I probably had enough energy left to draw on my magic one more time, but if I went too deeply it would mean weeks and weeks in my resting state.
Still. I couldn’t very well walk away from a dying sister.
“Can’t Principal Sweeney help you?” I asked hopefully. “He’s brimming with borrowed magic right now; it should last a few more hours at least.”
“No. Earthmagic doesn’t work; we’ve tried it already. Your firemagic is our only hope.”
To buy time I looked at Zig, waiting for the inevitable hissy fit. Back then he absolutely hated me, and whenever I used my firemagic he would start foaming at the mouth, mumbling dark verses about the certain doom and destruction of all mankind.
This time, however, he was quiet. More than that, he avoided my eyes.
I didn’t like it. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, confused by the sudden sense of unease that crept over me.
Jonathan glanced at Zig and something passed between them: a complex, guarded, intense look I couldn’t begin to understand. “She got hurt.”
There was enough firemagic still clinging to me that I found this clumsy evasion infuriating. “This isn’t a game, Jonathan. If you want me to help her, you’ll need to tell me what happened.”
He looked at Zig, who shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Well in that case.” I turned away.
“No. Jess. Wait.” Jonathan reached out a hand to pull me back, but at the last moment he dropped his arm, making me realize that my shine hadn’t yet dimmed completely.
“I can’t tell you what happened to my sister because it’ll undermine the Enthrallment spell you’re under. It’s no use: as soon as I try to explain, you’ll start grabbing your head and screaming. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
I had no intention of ever trusting Jonathan Pendragon on anything, but at the same time I knew I couldn’t deny him this favor. I also suspected he was telling the truth about the Enthrallment spell because every time he said the word “sister” I was hit by a sharp, short pain through the back of my head.
“So how do you see this working?” I asked. “How am I supposed to help her if I can’t even talk about her?”
“You’ll have to sink very deep into your firemagic. As deep as you can go.”
I frowned. “Will this cancel out the Enthrallment spell?”
“Yes. If you go deep enough, you’ll be more firedragon than girl and the Enthrallment won’t work anymore.”
He waited impatiently while I grabbed my head, and when the pain finally receded, he lifted his hands. “Look, I can’t explain it to you without giving you another headache. Just believe me, okay?”
Zig was scowling at the floor. “Why are you so quiet?” I asked. “Surely you can’t think this is a good idea.”
“Nothing you can do can ever be good. You are a monster and beyond redemption.”
I turned my back on him, not even bothering to roll my eyes.
But Zig wasn’t finished. “However, if you do this, you will earn the right to call on my mercy once.”
I spun around. “What?”
“It is my sacred duty to end your evil existence one day, and I will fulfill that task the moment it is demanded of me. This I swear to you.” Even with the remnants of my firemagic on me, I was chilled by the ice in his eyes. “But if you do this one thing tonight, I
will owe you a single debt of mercy before that time comes.”
“You’ll owe a debt to a monster?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“I will owe this debt to the girl, not the dragon.” The moment the words left his mouth he looked bewildered, as if his own words had surprised him. But I had no time to wonder about this, because a sudden pain jolted through me, as sharp as if someone had pushed a shard of glass through my eye.
“Oww!” When the worst of it passed, I glared at Zig. “Hello! This hurts, okay? Stop telling me things I won’t remember five seconds later anyway.”
“Are you going to help her or not?” Despite his expressionless face I imagined a certain tension in Zig’s voice.
I glanced at Jonathan and knew I had no choice.
“Yeah, I’ll do it. Just show me where to go and tell me when to fire up my magic.”
When I had drawn my magic to me so completely that I was more firedragon than girl and therefore largely immune to the Enthrallment spell I was under, they took me to where Jonathan’s sister lay sleeping in her bed, her body pale and still and perfect.
I took one look at her before turning away. “You have wasted my time. I will hear no more of debts and favors.”
“You have to help her!”
“This is nothing but an empty husk,” I said brusquely, insulted by the clear futility of their request. “There is no power on earth that can save this sack of skin and bones from the fate that awaits her.”
“No, wait. Please.” The boy looked appropriately chastened. “I didn’t mean to waste your time, I was just… I’m not sure how this works. I was hoping you could help her without seeing—–”
As he searched for the right words, I studied the way his spiritfire flickered in a curiously complicated mix of contrasting colors. At that particular moment I could clearly make out the forest green hue of true concern for another, the dirty orange of deception, the blueish-black of self-hatred, and the greyish brown of shame.
Interesting.
There were clear traces of subterfuge within this young man, but his deception was anchored in a deep sense of personal disgrace rather than in any form of malice.
“What are you hiding from me, young Pendragon? Do you not know that it is impossible to conceal the truth from a firedragon?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“I would smite you for such a barefaced lie, had I not so clearly seen that you do not mean me any disrespect. Reveal the truth to me now, before I lose patience with your weakness.”
He did not argue any further, but took me to the small patch of forest outside the house where a misshapen creature lay in a hollow dug into the ground.
“What is this pitiful thing?” I asked, surprised by the sight of an enormous, unnatural beast with a festering wound in its side.
“It’s… It’s part of Amber?”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
As I looked at the unfortunate creature through the eyes of the firedragon, I was bombarded with flashes of spell-hidden memory. I recalled a library lost in a dark unreality; an old woman turning into a marble goddess; shadowy monsters reluctantly attacking; Jack Pendragon’s panicked cry; a slayer’s shining sword.
“This is one of the monsters who struck at my keeper,” I said as the blistering blade of the firedragon’s mind carefully unpicking the trickeries sown into the thoughts of the girl. “She was the first to defy the voice of the Alpha and to turn on him instead.” As pieces of memory fell into place, I looked at the young slayer standing next to me. “And for that heroic deed you dared raise your sword against her?”
The slayer’s spiritfire, a hypnotically beautiful golden blaze, flickered dark grey with regret. “I aimed not to end her life, but to stop the slaughter. If she had killed her father, there would’ve been no one to control them. We would have had to slay them all.”
The debased creature at my feet emitted a low moan, and to my surprise I felt hot tears burning behind my eyelids. To trap such a beautiful dragonfire within such corrupted flesh! Ah, the unutterable waste of it all.
I looked at the weeping gash in the creature side, the wound oozing a foul-smelling yellow puss from rotten flesh. “Is this the wound you want me to heal?” I asked the boy.
“Yes.”
When I focused my attention fully on her injury, I understood the situation at once. “This wound was made by a slayer’s sword—–but not to kill.” I gazed in wonder at the golden young slayer, for it was now clear to me that he had spoken the truth. “Inside this wretched creature a dragonfire burns high and true. She is strong enough to Heal herself.”
The boy disagreed. “She can’t! I promise you, she’s been like this for months. Please Jess, you have to help her.”
That name shot a ball of fire through my skull.
Beneath my feet reality shifted and gave way like so much loose sand.
“What’s happening?” I looked around me, drunk with confusion, my head ready to explode.
Then I saw the monster at my feet, and I screamed.
“Jesus Christ!” I scrambled away, almost falling flat on my back in my haste to get away. “What is that thing?”
Jonathan cursed. “Go deeper into your firemagic! Do it now!”
I closed my eyes immediately, not so much the competent firemaster as a totally freaked out girl, but my power came anyway, crashing over me in waves. As the purifying heat of my magic seared away the pain and the fear, I exhaled slowly.
“It is unwise to call on the girl if it is the power of the dragon you require,” I told the boy when I opened my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“There is nothing to think about here.” I pointed at the pitiful creature. “She can Heal herself and does not require my assistance.”
“Please. I beg you. She’s dying.”
The urgency in his voice compelled me to look closer. Indeed, he was not completely mistaken. Her dragonfire was blazing strongly but her spiritfire was colorless and barely smoldering.
“You are right,” I said. “She is dying. But it is not the slayer’s wound that ails her. Her injury is far deeper, for she carries the scars of an old betrayal in her soul.”
“No! You must help her. Everyone says you’re the strongest juvenile dragon in centuries!”
His innocence moved me as much as his flattering tongue. “I can give this wretched creature the help she needs,” I told him gravely, “but beware! This is not the help you desire, and you will likely not thank me for it.”
It did not take long before his eyes filled with tears. “She wants to die, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And you can give this to her? Finally and painlessly?”
“Yes.”
The boy fell to his knees and placed a gentle hand against the monster’s foul hide. “Oh, Amber. I’m so sorry. If I could’ve changed all this, I would’ve. I promise.” He sat like that for a time, and I watched, fascinated, as the dark green flames of his spiritfire slowly gave way to the orange hues of shame.
In the end he stood up, a grim look of determination on his face. “You do not owe your debt to Amber. You owe your debt to me. And I need you to make sure she lives, whether she wants to or not.”
*
On that night, months ago, I agreed to Jonathan’s request. I stoked the injured creature’s dragonfire with my own magic until the slayer’s wound in her side mended itself and she had no choice but to return to a life she hated.
At the time, I had been deaf to her cries of protest, the firedragon in me completely assured of its right to determine another’s fate.
But now, standing here on this rock, I’m not a firedragon any longer. I am an ordinary girl, and I know what it’s like to feel helpless and unheard.
“Jonathan wants me to Heal the dead and broken bodies of the women you once were,” I tell the creatures clustered around me, my voice now loud and clear. (With the monster’s scaly head res
ting gently against my hand, the primal terror I felt in their presence has all but disappeared.) “Is this something I can do? And more importantly, is this something you want me to do?”
I look into their malevolent red eyes, hoping to find a clue to what they’re thinking, but apart from some snorting and hissing there’s no sound or signal I can make any sense of. The monster with the collar of ruffed spikes kneels on the ground as if exhausted. The one with the squat body and mottled skin moves closer to the rock I’m standing on. The two with the raised rows of knobby black ridges all over their bodies have closed their eyes. The one with the great, maw-like jaw is making low, moaning sounds. The one with the horribly thin, long neck presses her snakehead harder against me.
“Please, tell me what you need from me.”
Even while I say the words, a part of me feels ridiculous for addressing these creatures so calmly and so rationally. But I also remember, with heartbreaking clarity, a message I delivered to Jonathan not so very long ago: Your mother and your sister never left you… They are still here, even if they cannot communicate with you any longer… They have been here all the time, watching over you, not missing a moment of your life…
Dear God. What must it be like to begin your life as one of those stunning blond beauties and then to change into this—–a fully conscious mind trapped in horrifying, diseased body, constantly suffering and yet powerless to choose your own fate?
The answer comes to me in floating chunks of meaning broadcast directly from their minds to my own: glimpses of memory, of feeling and thought, settling on me like snowflakes.
A beautiful young girl in a dark mansion. The call of the sky and the call of the water. A bitter dream of love and of flesh. The shadow of a monster in a bright blue lake. A burning need to become what can never be. The too-sweet taste of sudden, overwhelming power. A heart divided against itself. The stench of a body that will not die. Hopeless yearning and unending pain. A hunger that cannot be sated. Endless years of slavery. Utter despair.
When the images become too many, the flashes of feeling so overwhelming that I begin to fear for my sanity, I raise both my hands into the air, a gesture not so much of command as of surrender. “Stop! No more!”
Treasurekeeper Page 23
