Boy Who Stole Time

by Mark Bowsher

  ‘Wait…’ answered Boona.

  Krish craned his neck to see the bird now far behind them. A few seconds more and it would be gone from sight altogether.

  ‘NOW!’

  A twang. Air rushed past Krish. The heat of a flame. A speck of fire sped through the air just to his left. Moments later the one pinprick of flame hit another.

  Then the sky was ablaze. A wave of flame shot out in every direction from where the beast had soared a split second before. A rippling carpet of fire spreading across the firmament. The light fantastical and the heat terrible, bearing down on the mountains and valley below. The air around Krish and his captors felt as if it were smouldering. Any longer in this wretched heat and they’d surely suffocate.

  ‘YAR!’ A cry from all the Goonmallinns. The reins whipped against the horses’ coats and they rushed in the opposite direction to the flames. The speed they were moving at now was incredible. Hooves beat the rock below them so fast it felt as though the rough ground was smooth as ice. Air rushed past Krish and the sacking flew off. The relief to be in the open air was instant. In fact with his face covered in sweat he began to feel cold. He looked back at the unbelievable sight in the sky behind him.

  The bird was gone. In its place, a billowing ball of flame lighting the night, filling the landscape with flickering shadows cast by the barbed towers of the gigantic rock formations towering over them. They sped down into the valley until the Goonmallinns found what they were looking for. Yelps of approval. Krish was lifted off the back of the horse and dragged to a crooked, petrified, grey-white tree. The ball of flame above them had billowed into a cloud. The cloud split into five or six pieces and spread across the sky overhead. The chill of the night melted away.

  ‘Yer never seen no Goonmallinn catch a FireHawk before?’ Boona said as she bound Krish to the tree. Krish shook his head, hoping somehow that acknowledging her might make her reconsider. ‘Yer don’ catch no FireHawk! Not fully grown! Too strong. But yer can kill one. Only way to start a firestorm. Firestorm where dey young come to life. This dey secret. When FireHawk grow old, one day, dey climb high in the sky and H’EXPLODE! Both male and female carry eggs and when dey h’explode da eggs in dey body come to life in da firestorm. Yer see soon dey eggs o’ flame! Dey born small but fully formed and ready to hunt! And what dey young want ’fore anyting else…? Breakfast!’ She tightened the last bond and began to walk away. Halfa looked from Krish to Boona and back again with narrowed eyes. ‘But da young full o’ energy! Unpredictable! Want to burn da place up a bit! Yer want to live, yer stay still. We save yer. No worries!’ Krish was not filled with hope.

  The instant Boona was back in the saddle the Goonmallinns rode halfway up the mountain and observed Krish from up on high. Krish waited for sheer panic to take him over. It took a few seconds to comprehend exactly how dire his situation was. The air was thick with heat. It was becoming too hot to breathe and the harder it became the more his lungs gasped for air and…

  A shadow. A shape moving across the ridge, far from the Goonmallinns. This didn’t distract Krish for long.

  A burst of heat burned his skin. He must be on fire, but there were no flames. He turned, the furnace-like air stinging his eyes, just in time to see what had caused the momentary rise in heat. One cloud of pure white flame was now a perfect globe. He looked closely and saw that the globe had cracked. What had Boona said? Eggs of flame. And in moments a young FireHawk would be born, hungry for its first meal.

  Another burst of suffocating heat, blinding white light engulfing the world. The light faded, his eyes were filled with purple spots with yellow tails. Then another burst, and another and another. The egg was covered in cracks. He looked about, desperately trying to get a fix on Halfa, but his mind only cared to see Balthrir. Where was she? He needed her! His despairing mind was not too proud to admit it. If only he’d been able to get the distress stone maybe he could have attracted her attention…

  The egg pulsed through the sky, the air; everything for miles around must be able to feel the hotness of the cracking egg high above. One last burst and something shot past him. Fragments of white-hot shell landed on the ground and he looked up at the glowing shape in the sky. Wings of white, tinged with gold, cupped around the magnificent form that hung in the air above him. Then, in a single fluid motion, the wings unfolded and the golden-white FireHawk, sleek and fierce and beautiful, swooped down towards Krish, its eyes bright, unblinking and hungry for the first meal of its life.

  The majestic creature’s body was slick and white, streamlined for speed, with pointed talons of gold, a crest of flaming orange upon its head. Even from where Krish stood he could see the fire in its eyes. A screech like a thousand notes sounding in perfect disharmony filled his ears and he looked to see the FireHawk pass him in a rush of blisteringly hot air. A trail of fire marked the trajectory of the beast’s dive.

  ‘YAR!’

  The Goonmallinns were on the valley floor once more. They rode about on the ground, hurling great wire nets, which smouldered red in the heat, into the air at the FireHawk. The FireHawk ducked and dived and turned, a clear line between itself and Krish. The newly born bird of flame saw three obstacles in its way, but none was even close to hindering it. Marl’s net fell, Blas was pulling hers back, ready to throw again, and Boona was too close to react in time, while the others were on the wrong side of Krish. A gust of heat and the bird had passed.

  The FireHawk turned and swept through the air, its eyes only on Krish. Boona threw her net, the FireHawk passed under it, Marl’s didn’t even leave her hands, and Blas screamed from the ground as her hand, outstretched to grab her fallen net, flew to one side, cut from her wrist by the tip of the FireHawk’s passing wing, the wound cauterised before the terrible creature could reach Krish. He twisted as best he could to one side. A blade of white heat tore across his neck. His flesh boiled then instantly sealed but the terrible bird had already started to turn once more before its wing left his skin. It caught the edge of a branch and fire blossomed on brittle branches.

  The tree was ablaze in moments. Several Goonmallinns ran to the tree but Halfa was the one to cut him loose. As he was hurled onto the back of Halfa’s horse he saw that Metta and Molran had the FireHawk in a net. It struggled and screeched and twisted round, pulling the net tighter. Metta moved closer to Molran so as not to be pulled from her horse but Molran was not as quick and was hoisted up into the air. Molran clutched at the net, hanging precariously in the air before the FireHawk made one last jerk towards the sky, lifting Metta off her horse. Metta crashed onto the ground (followed moments later by Molran), letting go of her side of the net in the process, and the bird swooped down and out from under the net then rose high in the night sky with a shriek of terror. The FireHawk whirled violently in the air, guttural cries of warning echoing amongst the rocks, barely a second passing between each one.

  Boona shouted at Blas, who was a crumpled heap of agony on the ground, slapped her across the face, and moments later both, the latter with Marl’s assistance, had mounted their horses. They rushed back up the mountain pass while Krish watched the FireHawk with wide, unbelieving eyes.

  In its rage the beast zig-zagged through the air, leaving trails of flame behind it, and then it turned upon the mountains themselves. How such a thing could happen Krish did not understand but he saw it with his own eyes. The FireHawk whirled round and round a lone peak, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and soon the rock glowed orange, bubbled and sank to the ground in a puddle of molten rock. The bird twisted and spun in the air and soon a whole range of mountains fell into the prehistoric-looking soup that had enveloped the landscape below them. Krish felt the rock beneath his feet shake and the path began to slide forty-five degrees to one side. The horses rushed onwards and soon they found themselves some way from the molten valley.

  But they were far from safety. The firestorm still raged in the sky above and more eggs were hatching. Four more birds opened their wings for the first time and f
ollowed the example of the first. Every outcrop, every peak was torn down by the heat the birds spread; as if most of the valley was bowing in submission to them, whole mountains brought to their knees. Five…or six…? Krish tried to remember how many he’d seen as his eyes scanned the panorama. Then he just caught it – a white sphere fading to deep red as it plummeted to the ground.

  Once-great mountains were now a soup of molten lava. A roaring, enraged landscape transformed in minutes into a stodgy lake of grey-black, fiery orange glowing in the cracks on its blackened surface. The land, now melted into a sea of molten fury, bubbled and spat. Waves of lava like great, furious hands were hurled into the air.

  A prickly heat spread through the air as the clouds formed overhead. A ocean of grey above and a sea of black and orange below. Then came the rain. The ferocious downpour was heavier, more violent than Krish had ever seen. So sudden and strong. You felt the rain itself could knock you out. It blasted the molten rock as it erupted into the air. The tempestuous waves of lava, like angry, clawed hands reaching out of the lake that was once the land, were cooled and within seconds they solidified. Fierce waves of lava thrown high in the air formed terrifying-looking rock formations and the gentler waves became ridges as they froze.

  Krish saw a whole new mountain range spring up out of nowhere. They were pelted with heavy, near-vertical streams of rain. The downfall ended seconds later, the heat returned and his skin and clothes were practically dry again within moments. There were still damp patches under his arms (and various other places) and even on the section of the horse’s coat that his body covered. It all began to chafe unpleasantly as they galloped onwards.

  Still the FireHawks raged and the clouds of fire followed by the coming of more rain assisted in the re-casting of the valley. Never could Krish have imagined such a thing; the terrain destroyed and reforged within minutes, only to be torn apart once again.

  Now Krish and the Goonmallinns were running out of places to flee to. Both sides of the trail led to seas of molten rock. Blas was wailing, her face heavy with despair. She struggled to hold onto the reins with one hand.

  ‘Quit yer whinin’!’ Boona shouted over her shoulder at Blas, who was falling behind. ‘Yer hurry or yer die!’

  A FireHawk wheeled overhead and dived towards them, slashing the path with flame, the rock boiling red just metres ahead of them. They backed away, the path splitting into fragments floating on the glowing red sea in front of them. The FireHawk returned to set light to the other side of the path. There were only two options left to them – a ride down into a valley of molten rock or to chance it down a near-vertical drop towards the desert. They opted for the latter, but the wailing Blas turned to the valley. Krish was barely over the ridge before he heard the scream. He could just make out a FireHawk lifting a shrieking, struggling creature into the air before the others swooped in and pecked and pecked until Blas’s cries were silenced.

  ‘Dey go for ’orse next! We got minutes!’ Boona cried. They headed down the side of the mountain on foot, leading the horses, whose hooves struggled to grip the steep path.

  ‘Where are we going?’ said Krish to Halfa but Boona overheard.

  ‘Shut yer noise!’ said Boona

  ‘We’re leaving?!’ Krish couldn’t face going back but he was hardly rushing to return to the valley.

  ‘Dey too many! Too angry! Tonight not our night.’

  ‘But one fell! I saw it! An egg! It fell to the ground.’

  Boona pondered this for a moment but didn’t slow down. Krish turned hopefully to Halfa.

  ‘It no hatch?’ she asked. Krish nodded. ‘Yer know where it landed, boy?’

  ‘We not goin’ back!’ cried Boona.

  ‘If he know where is FireHawk, newly born, we got to turn back!’

  Metta spat out a warning like the hiss of a snake combined with a cat coughing up a fur-ball. ‘One dead; I don’ fancy bein’ next!’

  ‘Mmm!’ chipped in Molran.

  Boona slowed, the others followed suit. ‘We turn,’ she said. ‘While dey eat. Leave one ’orse for dey. Molran ride wid Marl. Quick!’

  Molran dismounted, tied her protesting horse to a rock and clambered aboard Marl’s horse. They turned and headed down into the valley.

  *

  There it was. Glowing red rock remoulded into a mid-splash shape as the egg had hit the ground. Steam rose from the slim, smouldering waves of rock partially obscuring the egg. Its glow was faint but it was still hot.

  ‘It no dead,’ proclaimed Molran. ‘Alive!’

  ‘Good,’ said Boona. ‘We drag it in net. Metta, yer stay back, watch it. Anyting yer see, yer cry, we leave it.’

  No one dared touch the egg. In shape it was slightly elliptical. From farther away you could be mistaken for thinking it was a perfect circle. It was three times the size of Krish’s head but he was surprised it wasn’t bigger. Its glow an oddly comforting shade of red-orange.

  The Goonmallinns cast their net over the egg, dragged it over to Metta’s horse and fastened the net to the saddle. Boona put a hand on Krish’s shoulder just before she mounted her horse. ‘Yer eyes more useful to us than yer body was as bait, boy. Mebbe yer stay alive a little longer.’

  Soon they were riding as fast as they could away from the firestorm and the molten valley. Krish’s eyes stayed with the egg being dragged in the dirt behind them. It never lost its glow.

  CHAPTER 24

  COUNTDOWN

  Krish, his arms tied to the supporting pole at the centre of the tent, was listening intently to the argument which had erupted between the Goonmallinns. He strained to hear a word as they spoke in hushed tones. His eyes were drawn to the smouldering shape which had been placed in an empty space at the centre of the tent. The egg glowed gently. An orange-red haze warmed the air around them. Sweat poured down Krish’s face and he could see the Goonmallinns loosening their robes with the heat. Their voices seemed to rise with the temperature.

  ‘Yer can’t leave it in here! It a curse! It wakes, we burn!’ cried Marl.

  ‘And if FireHawks see dat, we ull burn! For certain!’ said Boona. ‘It not go outside! Not till it wake!’

  ‘What da stones say?’ ventured Metta.

  Marl approached the egg. She hesitated then drew a knife, stepped forward and scraped a layer of the shell off while sucking air through gritted teeth. Krish had never seen someone so savage use a knife so delicately. Marl turned the blade flat and then ran it carefully across her hand, collecting the scraping from the egg in her palm. With her other hand she took a handful of the small stones tablets she’d used before as a rudimentary alarm clock. She crushed the scraping from the eggshell into the stones then dropped them onto the ground. Marl examined the stones knowingly with her one fully functional eye as they arranged themselves into a curious formation.

  While Marl considered the stones, Krish looked over at his pack. In the flurry of activity that had come with the arrival of the egg, a lot of items had been moved around the tent. His pack, which he knew contained the distress stone, had been relocated several times and it was now almost within his reach. But the Goonmallinns, although a little preoccupied with the stones, were still standing too close at the moment for him to risk stretching out to try and grab it.

  ‘It wake in five hours,’ Marl announced.

  ‘Den we sleep,’ said Boona. ‘Rest for tree hours den drag it outside for it wake. Kill it. Split it and den we go our own ways. We sell and dis give more gold, more jewel dan we can carry! And I is takin’ da head!’

  ‘I want wing!’ cried Marl.

  ‘Mm. Wing! I take other wing!’ added Molran.

  ‘I take a breast! Good meat!’ chipped in Metta.

  ‘A fedder…’

  They all stared at Halfa.

  ‘Yer’ll not get a fedder!’ said Boona. ‘Dey burn!’

  ‘Yer’ll let it eat first,’ said Halfa. ‘Den I can get da fedder. If not it burn when it die.’

  ‘What it gonna eat, eh?’ sai
d Metta.

  There was silence as they pondered Metta’s question. Then, one by one, they turned to Krish. Boona’s eyes were wide, the corners of her lips on an upward curve.

  ‘What d’yer say, boy…? Yer want yer freedom… Yer serve us well on da mountain. Want to be free…? Or mebbe yer taste good… to FireHawk…’

  Krish didn’t fancy his chances in the desert but it had to be better than—

  ‘Feed ’e to FireHawk.’ Halfa spoke slowly, softly and with an immeasurable quantity of cruelness. ‘’Im taste good for first meal.’ Everyone was looking at her. There was a change in her eyes. Krish’s look begged her to reconsider but Halfa’s whole face was aglow with greed for the Myrthali.

  ‘S-she’s lying!’ cried Krish but it wasn’t a lie. ‘I m-mean it’s a-a trick!’ It wasn’t even a trick. Not to them. Not really. What would she do with a few more miserable years? No. Halfa was just being callous for the sake of being callous. She’d waste the extra years the Myrthali would bring to her and enjoy thinking on his brief suffering before his death as a result of her betrayal.

  ‘We had a deal!’ he ventured despairingly.

  ‘What deal?’ cut in Boona. ‘What ’e talkin’?’

  ‘Nuttin’!’ said Halfa. ‘’Im made no deal wid I!’

  ‘Yes you did, Halfa.’ Halfa almost quivered at Krish using her name. He was too tired. Too tired and too sick of this. All of this. Everything he’d gone through. He looked her straight in the eye and spoke slowly, quietly so she had to listen. ‘We had a deal and you will honour it. If you have even a scrap of decency left in you, you’ll cut me loose, get me a feather and take me to the Black Palace, and you won’t let anyone stand in our way.’

  Halfa stood there, lost for words for a moment before she pulled out her blade.

  ‘Where dis fire in you come from, boy?’ Halfa called out. ‘Mebbe I cut it from you!’

  ‘Cut it from ’e! Yes!’ Metta was jumping up and down excitedly. ‘We cut fire from ’e and use it to boil ’e bones! Make a stew with ’e flesh and we feast with FireHawk!’ She clapped wildly and the room was filled with her shrill laughter.