The Firebrand Legacy

by T. K. Kiser

  Carine sat between David and Giles at the large oak table. Her fingertips drummed the table. The dragon, as much as she hated him, had been their only hope. Only the dragon could bring the flame to defeat the Heartless Ones in Navafort.

  “Clouds blocked the sun. The wind raged. My pitcher plants screamed like children.” Ute broke her trance and met Carine’s eyes. “I do internal patrols as part of Wyre’s Heartless Defense Program. Our initiative hasn’t been successful, but most of our members have avoided enslavement to the Heartless Ones that plague our land.”

  “What happened?” David asked, tone brimming with impatience, eyes wide and shiny.

  “I saw your dragon first. Sometimes you hear of people seeing the ash dragon, the dragon you call Kavariel, but never close up, only far when it had just touched into this realm. But this time it was close. I could count its claws, feel its heat. It knocked me over, that’s how near it was. I was in the hills, where we don’t have much by way of trees. I could see that, even as far as the capital, boulders spun in midair.

  “My instinct was to run, of course, but there was blood on the dragon’s underside, so I stayed to see. That was my mistake. Luzhiv, the snow dragon, hurtled from the clouds and stuck Kavariel. I’d never seen Luzhiv before, and his beauty startled me. I’d always thought that with such evil work that he does that he’d look equally ugly, but he was white as snow. He had scales that glittered in the sunlight. It was frightening.

  “It must have been the second or third attack, because the ash dragon didn’t seem surprised. It thudded to earth, and was so huge I thought the boundary between the other realm and this must have torn. I thought all was ending.

  “Your dragon was in pain. It screamed in fire, lying upside down while the snow dragon ripped at its belly. The ash dragon rose a couple times with its magic. The ground I stood on became like thick film on a pond. A wave coursed through the hill. The ash dragon turned over, blasted the snow dragon, and tried to fly off. But the snow dragon caused a worse storm. He tore wing with teeth. After that, I lost track. They were at each other’s throats, tearing and calling nature to swarm. The snow dragon had blackbirds peck at the ash dragon’s eyes. Flies swarmed up his nostrils. I could tell the ash dragon tried to call the things away, but he was weak. The wind died down. I was sobbing, thinking I was already dead.”

  Ute got quiet for a minute, so the only sound was the faun’s melody.

  “Where?” Giles asked.

  “In the healing pool at the border between my kingdom and Fletchkey. I thought you should know. I thought Navafort should know.” Her voice broke.

  “Is he suffering?” David asked.

  Ute nodded. “Yes. I imagine so.”

  David trembled. “Luzhiv has attacked dragons before. The healing process takes years, and it’s painful.” He shook his head. “There’s no hope then.”

  Carine stood. “Giles, let me find my parents.”

  26 Looking for People and Things

  Giles’ room was four times the size of Carine’s family’s house. A giant four-poster bed was perfectly made in the precise center of the main room. He had drapes tied back on each of the posts. They would keep out cold in the winter and heat in the summer. He had five bookshelves, all lined neatly with scrolls and bound books. Off to the side was another room with a desk and perfectly-placed quill and inkwell. Hand-drawn maps plastered the wall of his study, and still more bookshelves took their place there.

  A manservant bowed when Giles and she entered. On the ship, David’s easy manner had enabled Carine to mostly forget the princes’ status. Standing in this castle, on these rugs and with ancient paintings and statues lining the wall , there was no question.

  “What you see as decor, I see as incompetence in disguise. Go take a look at any of the Marcels’ rooms; I’m the only one with books. I’m the only one who has an inkling of what’s going on and where Navafort needs to go to have a future. Now, for instance, accepting defeat is not wisdom.”

  “Where’s the telescope?”

  Giles led her into the study, where three large windows showed the scene below. The silenced crowd had taken up arms again, and even from three stories up, Carine could still sense their anger. She felt her own desperation joining theirs.

  Giles tilted the lens of a silver telescope in her direction. “It is my slow hell in this world that I am the one most fit to rule, but will never inherit the throne.”

  Through the telescope, Carine scanned the North and South Esteners’ faces. Their signs filled the view when she passed over them: Where is the king? Our army does nothing. Honor to the great cowards! Across them fell a long shadow, the shadow of the empty torch. The flameless tower that left them vulnerable to any Heartless One that deigned to enter.

  “Any luck?” David’s voice carried a sadness that hadn’t been present on the ship.

  “I don’t see them,” Carine said, but she kept her eye on the glass, nudging the telescope inch by inch as she examined every face in the crowd.

  David slumped to the ground behind her. “I can’t believe it. Kavariel is dying.”

  “Can dragons die?” Giles asked.

  “I don’t know,” David said. “Where’s Alviar when you need him?”

  A man, a woman, children, bakers, candle makers, weavers—some people Carine recognized. But none of them were her parents.

  “Kavariel can’t save us this time,” David said. “Carine, when you find your parents, what are you going to do?”

  “Get out of Esten, together.” Her heart broke to suggest it. It was one thing to plan to move temporarily, when they would return to a healthy Esten. But now, once she and her parents left, Navafort would crumble behind them.

  There was another factor too, creeping into Carine’s concerns. She turned to David, his ears sticking out under his now-dried hair, and Giles, who stood tall with hands clasped behind his back even during this casual conversation among friends. “But what will happen to you?”

  “We can’t abandon our people.”

  “For once, you’re right. Grandfather is wrong this time,” Giles said. “We need to show the people that we can defend our own.”

  “You will?” A spark, like hope, lit in Carine. “But how?”

  Giles leaned against his bookcase. “We can’t win with swords. We must use magic against the Heartless One.”

  Carine clenched her jaw, conflicted. A week ago, she would run, but now, maybe Giles was right. Maybe magic wasn’t all bad. It was more nuanced than that, and if they could use it to protect Navafort, Carine could support the endeavor. On the other hand, the very thought went against everything she’d ever been taught, all that she’d ever believed in.

  “David, what resources do we have?” Giles asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that all your sorting through wishpiles might finally pay off.”

  27 Words that Matter

  David’s room was a jungle. A miniature dragon skeleton hung from his ceiling as though in flight. Open books with elaborate illustrations scattered across the floor. Handwritten letters covered his hanging mirror. Navafort pennants strung from each bedpost. The covers, even after he’d been gone so long, were piled at the foot of the bed.

  Color filled David’s cheeks as Carine entered. “I tell the servants not to touch things. Once they move something, I can never find it again.”

  What grabbed Carine’s attention wasn’t the mess but the glittered writing on the walls. Where Giles had bookcases in his room, David had open wall, every inch of it covered in words of the dragon language, Manakor. The words sparkled in big font and small font, so that, along with the dragon skeleton, the room had an aura of death about it. Standing in the doorway was like standing in Kavariel’s breath of flame.

  Carine hugged her arms to her chest and stayed at the center of the room. “What do they all mean?”

  Giles answered for David as he popped into his study and rummaged through a heap of pots, pans, armor,
clothing, and gadgets. “They are the hundred words of Manakor. The ones we have translations for. Most of them have been breathed by Kavariel onto Esten’s walls, but some have been revealed in other parts of the kingdom.” Giles frowned. “Which is why I don’t like that Thabo claimed to know the definition of your name. Either he’s a liar or he has access somehow to privileged information.”

  “Do you know them by heart?”

  Giles raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

  Carine smiled. “You’re a little full of yourself, you know that?”

  “I simply asked what you think,” Giles said. “No harm in that.”

  David waltzed in and spread five items onto the rug. He picked out a book and a few puzzle pieces that had been on the floor to start out with, but once they were clear, he held up a frying pan. Carine knelt down beside the objects, not willing to touch them but wishing with all her might that they might have the power to save a city.

  “Watch this.” David held his fingertips to the frying pan and tapped on the metal five times. By the fifth tap, a ringing filled his room. Carine met his eyes as David drew a finger to his lips. “Shh!” The ringing started off low and soft, but when David tapped the pan again, the pitch and volume jumped up.

  “What is the point of—” Giles said, but David flicked the metal. The pitch increased again, this time piercing the room.

  Carine covered her ears and watched in horror as David hit the metal a fourth time. The vibration screamed. Giles doubled over, holding onto his ears, and David beaming, quickly tapped the metal twice.

  The pan silenced.

  A dull ringing continued in Carine’s ears.

  “Isn’t it great?” David yelled.

  Giles frowned. “The Heartless One could shatter it with a single word. He could fling it from your grasp. That won’t work. Not even close.”

  “Are you kidding? This has real potential! Do you know how long it took me to figure out what it does, let alone how to stop it?”

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Giles said. “At this point, our kingdom hangs in the balance. The work you put in has nothing to do with the results. What else do you have?”

  Unfortunately, David started out with his best find. The feather that cured sneezing and the shield that floated in front of a person couldn’t do much to help the whole city.

  Carine studied the wish pile and suddenly stood.

  “What?” David said.

  She shook her head. “We’ve been looking in the wrong place. We’ve been looking for an enchanted object to help us defeat the Heartless Ones, right? But we know what defeats them: the flame. The flame has always stopped the Heartless Ones.”

  “But Kavariel isn’t coming,” David said.

  “That’s right, but because of Ute, now we know where he is. If Kavariel won’t bring us the flame, then I’m going to go get it.”

  “You must be joking,” Giles said. “How can you expect to cross Navafort and live? The Heartless Ones are out there, even now.”

  “And if you get to the dragon, you can’t just nab his flame. You’ll die!”

  “I’ll die here anyway.” Carine dusted off her surcoat. “Do you have any horses?”

  Giles raised an eyebrow. “Can you ride?”

  “I’ll figure it out,” she said, and to her annoyance, Giles responded in laughter.

  David followed her into the hallway. “Carine, wait! Kavariel’s in pain. Have you ever seen a fire-breathing beast in pain? They don’t get nicer. He. Will. Kill. You.”

  Carine spun, a new fullness burning inside her. “You know what, David? That’s what I’ve believed my whole life. Every year, I’ve hidden away with my parents because that beast out there—that beast that we need—burned my sister to ash. And the only thought that’s made that tragedy bearable is the idea that because she died, we survived another year. How can I not go, David? How can I sit here and let my parents suffer the same way she did? If I go and die there, no one will miss me but them. If I go and get that flame, we might finally find the peace we’ve been looking for all along. Can you understand that?”

  David met her eyes. “My dad died in battle. I do understand. I’m coming with you.”

  “And you’ll never get there without me.” Giles strapped his sword to his hip. “So, I’m coming too.”

  David smiled. “There, you see? Let’s get some supplies.”

  Carine took the lead, darting through the hallway and winding down narrow spiral stairs. David kept pace.

  “And you’re wrong, Carine; your parents aren’t the only ones who’d miss you.”

  28 No One Leaves

  At the double doors to the throne room, Carine pulled on Giles’ arm. “What are you doing? We don’t have time for this.”

  “I am requesting supplies. This journey will take a couple weeks. We can’t go empty handed.” Giles pushed open the throne room door. “Grandfather, we need supplies to go get the dragon’s flame for Navafort. We don’t seek permission but money, horses, and men.”

  Limly, drying out now, stood erect. The king rose solemnly, but as soon as he stood, a smile spread across his face. David smiled too, beaming earnestly for the validation of the king’s approval.

  Until King Marcel burst out laughing and exited the room.

  The three exchanged looks, but David, Giles, and Limly fled after the king. Carine stormed after them. “Who cares what he thinks?” she yelled. “We need to leave now. We needed to leave yesterday!”

  For a moment, she considered going without them, but the princes would be a better help to her than a few minutes’ head start.

  Up crooked stairs and down elaborate hallways, King Marcel strode, his indigo cape fluttering after him over the shiny stone floor. Servants bowed as he passed in haste until at last the leader of Navafort stopped at two tall windows that opened onto a balcony. Without a glace to the princes, he thrust the windows open and stepped out, flooding the hallway with an angry cacophony.

  “What are you doing?” Prince Giles demanded.

  King Marcel raised his arms to the crowd. They hushed. The silence, interrupted by scattered chants, awaited his speech. King Marcel let his arms fall.

  “Do not be afraid, dear citizens,” King Marcel said. “Your Great Marcels have never let you down, and we never will! For I today am sending an expedition to capture the treasured flame of our wounded dragon Kavariel.”

  Limly’s eyes widened. “His Majesty has approved it, then,” he whispered. “I’ll prepare your things. I’ll recruit the knights, sirs.”

  “Hurry,” Carine said.

  “Yes, madam,” Limly said. “I’ll work quickly, madam.” He skirted down the stairs, bumping into walls and banisters.

  His highness continued, “This kingdom was born in adversity, and adversity will make us stronger. Do not be afraid, dear citizens. Your Great Marcels are here. Every year we feel the sting of a bee as our children and neighbors perish at the hand of the ash dragon Kavariel. But just as we need stinging bees to pollinate our flowers and feed our families, so too have we relied on this dragon to protect us from the Heartless Ones at our borders. You must know, dear citizens, even if all deserted us, even bees and dragons, you would still have your caring, devoted Marcels to depend on. You say the phrase with reverence and love; I recite the phrase as a reminder of my duty. Honor to the Great Marcels indeed because, dear citizens, we honor you.”

  Carine crept up to the window so she could see the crowd. Somewhere down there her parents were gaining hope from the king’s words, not knowing that it was their daughter who would venture off for this cause.

  The crowd began a confused cheer, but just as the volume began to grow, it fell away, for among them stood a hooded figure that mumbled something in a foreign tongue. Carine’s skin crawled as she saw the effect of the Manakor: the stone of the balcony cracked and sighed. From instinct, Carine reached out for His Majesty. Her arm caught around his middle, and she yanked him into the hallway just as the
balcony crumbled.

  Below, the people screamed.

  The king fell back onto the hallway as the glass doors shattered. Carine shrieked and covered the king. The splintered shards showered her back but did not make any cuts. David and Giles grabbed the trembling king’s arms and pulled him down the hallway. “Soot and ash,” David mumbled, meeting Carine’s eyes as if to ask if that really just happened.

  Carine’s heart raced. Her breath was heavy. As she stood, the glass clinked down her cloak to the floor. Below, the people abandoned their signs and scattered.

  All moved except one solitary figure. He stood, looking up where the balcony had been, watching the girl that stood there.

  King Marcel bounded down the stairs. “Get me a ship! Get me a ship!” he shouted.

  Carine, David, and Giles bounded after him.

  “The other Heartless One is back already,” Giles said.

  “Where’s Limly?” David asked.

  “Where are the horses?” Carine wanted to know.

  Giles led them down a corridor where they slipped away from His Highness and into a great courtyard in the castle. Downstairs servants screamed, darting across the courtyard away from the main gate. Knights ran in the opposite direction, streaming in groups of three and four toward the gate as though their training could ward off a Heartless One.

  “He’s in the Bastion,” David whispered.

  Giles veered to the right. “This way.”

  Carine hurried after, wishing her heart to slow down, wishing she could feel calm. Instead, her mind and body revolted against her. Her palms and forehead beaded with sweat. Her chest rose up and down as no breath filled her lungs.

  They ran around the upper balcony, but just as Giles opened the door to the stairwell, the Heartless One stepped into the courtyard.

  With a whisper of Manakor, the courtyard’s chairs splintered into boards that spelled out three words on the floor: NO ONE LEAVES.