The Firebrand Legacy

by T. K. Kiser

  The knights that had gone to fight the Heartless One had not followed him back. A pang hit Carine’s heart as she realized that this might be the end for the Bastion, for her kingdom.

  David took her hand. “Come on.”

  The three disappeared down the stairway. The curved, tight wall amplified their heavy breaths.

  “What if—” Carine started, but David squeezed her hand and shook his head. He was right. They couldn’t afford to dwell on what ifs. Not now.

  The outside air hit them with the floral scent of hyacinths. The fragrant sweetness seemed to mock them as they found their way to the stables through a fleeing crowd of servants that called for each other and wept for the fallen.

  “Oh no,” David breathed, seeing the empty stables. It wasn’t clear if the Heartless One had freed the royal horses or if the servants had stolen them. Either way, they were gone.

  Carine leaned over a stable gate, breathing in the smell of manure. “What do we do now?”

  David covered his face with his hands. Giles watched the running servants, clutching the hilt of his sword. A figure bumbled into the stable doorway, holding something outside.

  “Your Majesties, sirs, the servants’ stables still have horses.”

  29 Weeping Woman

  Carine dug her fists into Giles’ chest and her head into his back as two servants’ horses galloped north, over the first bridge along with throngs of running crowds. Carine held onto Giles, and David onto Limly, a full bag strapped over his shoulder.

  Carine turned. The Heartless One watched from the Bastion’s turrets.

  “He sees us!” she cried, just as the bridge crumbled beneath them. “Jump!”

  The horse leapt from the crumbling stone onto the hard dirt pathway. Not everyone had been as lucky. The unlucky ones screamed or lay in the churning river that carried them out to sea.

  Carine squeezed her eyes shut as the horses headed to the Grunge, but as they traced the streets where her old neighbors fled into their homes and doors slammed shut, hatred swelled within her. She missed her parents and the safe city she’d always known. She would destroy the Heartless Ones. She had to.

  As they whipped around a corner, Carine straightened. A weeping woman with long graying hair stood at the corner of the street. Her nut-brown eyes flicked up to the horses. Carine’s heart flipped. After days without her parents, her mom was alive.

  “Giles, stop!” Carine’s body twisted to watch the figure of her mother zoom by.

  “We can’t. He’s on our tail,” Giles said.

  Mom was moving now, running, her long hair in waves behind her, arms and legs flying as she chased the horse. “Carine!”

  “Stop!” Carine yanked Giles’ shirt. “It’s my mom!”

  Giles whipped his head around, taking in just a glimpse of the woman that meant nothing to him and everything to Carine.

  Mom’s eyes were wide and frazzled as she gained distance. Her face fluctuated between panic and joy. Carine felt the same: joy that Mom was here, panic that they were leaving. Carine reached out for her mother’s fingers, though Mom was still ten feet away, stretching out her hand as well, as though a physical touch would make this real.

  Limly’s horse slowed as David said, “I don’t see the Heartless One. Let her stop.”

  Giles glanced back down the alley and slowed but didn’t stop. Carine, eyes filling with tears, met his eyes in quick thanks, but his stony glare and paranoid glance back told her that she didn’t have long.

  Without a word, Mom found Carine’s fingers. Her warm touch was a thousand hugs to Carine. She jogged, her Didda-made shoes bounding over the cobblestone as she kept pace with Carine and Giles on the horse. They swayed back and front, but Carine kept her eyes locked on Mom’s worn face. In this moment, neither the subtle breeze nor the threat of the Heartless One could chill her. Mom was here, holding her hand.

  Mom rested her other hand on the horse’s coat, jogging sideways so she could look up at Carine. Carine bent over the saddle. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I should never have left you with that baker. I shouldn’t have left for Padliot.”

  “It’s okay, my sweet girl,” Mom said. “I’m okay. Didda’s okay.”

  “He is? Where is he?”

  Mom shook her head. “I don’t know. I saw him an hour ago.”

  Giles turned. “It’s time, Carine. We have to go.”

  Mom looked over Carine’s companions: two princes and a servant. Her eyes trailed over Carine’s cut hair. A question lingered in her eyes. Carine knew the expression on her face. It was the same one she wore when Carine came home after others had picked on her. Mom wanted to know what had happened to her daughter, because something had changed.

  Carine wanted to tell her everything. She wanted to see Didda.

  “Where you going?” Mom said.

  “We’re going to get Kavariel’s flame.”

  “What?” Mom’s face contorted as though in physical pain.

  “As soon as we get back, Esten will be safe. In the meantime, be safe. Promise me you will.”

  Mom just squeezed her wrist tight with both hands. The horse was going faster, and if Mom didn’t get out of the way, it would trample her. She ran as fast as she could to keep up, her shoulder bumping into the horse’s side.

  “Promise me!” Carine said.

  But Mom’s eyes, brimming with tears, were squeezed nearly shut as her mouth formed a kiss. She leaned forward, reaching for Carine’s cheek, but at an inch away, the horse bolted. Mom fell away against a brick wall. Carine’s hair flapped around her forehead as she watched her mother grow more and more distant.

  “I love you!” Carine called back, but as they turned the corner, Carine doubted Mom heard her.

  She held tight onto Giles as they left Esten. As much as she knew this was necessary, as much as she and her family needed that flame, every voice in her head asked what—by dragon’s bane—she could possibly be thinking.

  30 Impossible Dream

  The city gave way to nature’s stir as Giles and Carine caught up with David and Limly. They looked as though they’d just stopped, right at the edge of the street, where the city broke away to the long grasses and marshes that lay to the west.

  Their horses crossed narrow wooden bridges over the marshes leaving Esten. Little black insects glided over the water, and splashes marked where fish broke the surface. When the bridges gave way to compact dirt paths, the horses brushed through cordgrass.

  Carine couldn’t help but turn as they traveled westward, toward a landscape filled with unknown dangers, toward an area just as vulnerable to the Heartless Ones as Esten. Dry green moss grazed Carine’s shoulders, hanging like laundry on the tree branches. Distant Esten seemed quiet and small. Only the top of the unlit torch was visible now, though the dragon’s features were indistinct.

  “You can stop looking back,” Giles said as the sun sank. Limly rode abreast with the youngest prince, so David sat next to Carine.

  She asked, “What do you think the Heartless One will do to them now that they’re all trapped inside?”

  Limly answered, “Not a thing, madam. Not a thing! We will capture the flame and extinguish him before he has a chance to strike.”

  David made a face. “Grandfather almost died today. The Heartless One had better not kill him.”

  “Or Mom and Didda.”

  The dusk was colder than they’d planned. Carine wrapped herself in her cloak as the horses clicked on.

  “Carine,” David said after a while. “You saved Grandfather’s life. You should get a medal or something. Be knighted or something.”

  Carine smiled. “Can you knight me?”

  Giles laughed. “It doesn’t work that way. There are no honorary knights in Navafort. All knights must pass rigorous training of the body, intellect, and will. Honorary knighthood is a thing of Padliot. It has no place in a kingdom such as ours.”

  “That’s right, Your Majesty,” Limly said. “Quite right.”

  C
arine sat up straight, something in Limly’s voice stirring her to speak. “You saved all of us, Limly.”

  A sad smile crept into his lips. “I just followed my duty, just followed my duty.” He raised a finger. “Incidentally, Your Majesties, I grabbed some money from the treasury on my dash downstairs, just in case. I hope you’re not displeased, Your Majesties.”

  “How much?” Giles asked.

  The red velvet bag clinked as Limly raised it from where it was tied to his waist. “Enough, sirs—quite enough, I should think—to cover food and lodging for the journey.” He went silent for a moment, and then added, “Despite the circumstances, I feel honored to be part of this mission. Your Majesties, my older brothers both were knighted early in their lives, very early.”

  “Renald who swordfights with me, he is your brother, isn’t he?” Giles said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “He’s not too bad.”

  Limly smiled. “Not at all, Your Majesty, though his talent far surpasses mine. Far surpasses.” The tree frogs croaked and sang. “I always wanted to be like him, but I couldn’t pass the exams. After too many years of training and failing, my instructor finally recommended I choose another occupation.”

  “I didn’t know that,” David said.

  “All I have ever wanted, Your Majesties, is to serve this kingdom’s leaders. Your Majesties, to have been your servant all these years, and to serve you now on this expedition that could very well be the last chance for Navafort…” Moonlit tears sparkled in his eyes. “It is a privilege, Your Majesties.”

  Limly’s joy in this journey sharply contrasted with Carine’s unease. It would take more than two weeks just to reach the dragon, and if they survived, two weeks back. She hoped that Mom would find Didda safe, and that by some miracle, Esten would be left untouched before they returned.

  31 Centaur Folk Tales

  “But what do you mean, the flame went out?” The centaur had aging brown hair on her head and body. Her dark green shirt fell nearly to her hooves, so from the front she looked almost like menfolk.

  Her husband had opened the door as soon as Limly knocked. He shooed her away from the door, his tail just as white and frizzled as his short hair. “Do not hound them, Marie; they are weary.” He waved in Carine and the princes. “Come in, come in. Take off your shoes.”

  Though they’d managed to find safe havens each night since leaving Esten, Carine always felt uneasy entering a stranger’s home. She was sweating, since the countryside grew warmer as they traveled westward, and was glad to take off her cloak and shoes and enter the cool kitchen.

  Carine surveyed the room. A large hearth burned embers with cast iron cooking equipment, and two divans were pushed up against a corner surrounded in colorful blankets that must serve as a sitting area for them.

  “Ask them if they’re hungry, Marie,” the husband said, making sure the princes were satisfied as they stepped out of their shoes.

  “Of course, what can I feed you, Your Majesties?” Marie rattled off a list of options before skirting back to the hearth with an armful of ingredients to prepare. “Give me a half hour.”

  By the time Carine bit into the satisfying polenta served on plates and eaten on the colorful floor mats, she decided she could sleep soundly in this home. Marie and her husband, George, spoke of the spring harvest and their small farm for most of the meal, but when George ate the last of his meal, he put his hands on his white hairy knees and said, “So?”

  Marie’s panic when Limly briefly explained their quest revealed that they would have to give some information at some point or another.

  She met David’s eyes. He set his plate on the floor and sat back. “I guess you didn’t hear all the way out here.” David scratched his head, looking for words. “Luzhiv has attacked Kavariel, and our dragon didn’t deliver the protective flames.”

  “A Heartless One has entered Esten,” Giles said, his posture perfect despite sitting cross-legged.

  Marie blinked, not moving, horror shining in her eyes. “You mean to say that we have no protection?” She turned to George. He picked up a blanket from the floor and covered his flank, as though his shiver were from the cold.

  “You’re doing a great help to Navafort by hosting us for the night,” David said, as though their help alone could restore peace to the nation.

  Marie didn’t seem to hear him. “It is hard to believe that the same situation that forced us to leave Wyre now afflicts us here in our old age.”

  George wrapped the blanket around his wrinkly arms now, his eyebrows squiggled up. “Is the Heartless One in Esten the only one in Navafort?”

  “We do not know,” said Giles. “Communication has been scarce with other parts of the country.”

  “But he wasn’t the only one to enter,” Carine said. She traced her finger along the red wool stripe in the blanket on the floor. Her voice hushed as she said, “The one that has taken Esten killed Selius, the first Heartless One. We can’t figure out his exact plan, but it’s like he’s closing all the borders to the city.”

  George’s plate clattered to the ground, its noise dulled by the thin fabric. In his eyes was both confusion and horror. “That can’t be true.” Marie looked at him, shadows crossing her eyes from the candle that lit the room in the dimming night.

  “Like I said, we don’t know why he wants to cut the city off...” Carine’s voice faltered as David met her eyes.

  Limly bit his nail, his knees curled up under him. Giles sat straight, listening but physically unaffected.

  “Not that,” George said. “You said the second Heartless One killed the first.”

  “Yes, I saw his body.”

  “That’s impossible!” George said, standing suddenly, his half-horse body appearing massive with the blanket hanging over him and his shadow cast along the wall.

  “Be calm, George, be calm,” said Marie with a high-pitched voice that did nothing to model tranquility.

  Carine stood, not ready to let this conversation switch to anything else. “What do you mean it’s impossible? You think his death was faked?”

  “I can’t say,” said the old centaur.

  “My George and I grew up in a town taken over by a Heartless One.” Shaking, Marie stood and took his hand. “He was fierce and needy, and our town appeased him. But it wasn’t half as bad as when the neighbor town’s Heartless One began to war with ours.”

  “They couldn’t kill each other, see, since they aren’t really alive to begin with.”

  “They’ve got no hearts, no blood, no soul.”

  “None of that,” George agreed. “It’s only the dragon Luzhiv’s power that sustains them. No cut or scrape or loss of limb can break that link between those pitiful creatures and their dragon.”

  Marie’s wide eyes scanned Carine and the princes as they stood. “Neither of those two Heartless Ones knew what they wanted. They destroyed our town and many others, not just buildings but livelihoods and lives. It wasn’t just death but despair that plagued us as our sisters lost vision and our brothers lost houses. We all lost our freedom.”

  “I thank the flames I had Marie,” George said, his eyes softening. “We were young then, newly in love, and she was like a light for me. No matter what happened in my house or in the fields when he came by, I could look across the street to Marie. She was like Kavariel’s flame. That love we shared immunized me to the despair of my family and friends, but it didn’t protect my heart from breaking when she and I discovered that all that was left for us was to flee.”

  “That’s how we came here,” Marie whispered.

  “Why would Selius fake his own death?” Giles wondered, shoulders square.

  Carine shook her head. “Selius’ death was real. I know it. I saw his corpse.”

  “Then what do you suggest, Carine? That there is something more powerful than the Heartless Ones?” Even as he spoke, Giles’ tone changed from accusation to interest. “Could there be something more powerful than a Heartless
One?”

  “The thought gives me shivers,” Marie said. “The Heartless Ones get their power from dragons. Who has more power than that?”

  Giles inhaled sharply, his conclusion chilling, “Someone that doesn’t need dragons at all.”

  32 Gullon Blood

  “Stop here,” Carine said. It was past noon the next day as she rode with Limly and the princes through a quiet centaur town, one that didn’t seem affected so far by the absence of flame. Children galloped through the streets playing ball, and merchants sold their goods in stalls and colorful mats.

  If the Heartless One—or whatever power it was—came here, nothing this town could do would stop him. Nothing Carine or the princes could do would stop him either, except getting that flame, a task that required reaching the healing pools without dying.

  Carine slipped off their loyal horse onto the dirt road.

  “What are you doing?” David said.

  Carine stared at the sign that hung over the door. The words of the sign looped in flowing, golden Manakor.

  “A wish shop?” David jumped down from his horse. Giles landed seconds after.

  Carine shivered. “We don’t know what’s out there. Heartless Ones, other powerful creatures... The four of us have no way to fight off an attack. Maybe there’s something in here that can help us, like the enchanted bow that saved us on the ship.”

  David sneaked a smile. “Words I never thought I’d hear you say.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, David,” Giles said. “She’s right.”

  “If it pleases Your Majesties,” Limly said from one horse, holding the reigns of the other, “I shall water the horses and refurbish supplies.”

  “Thank you, Limly.” David opened the wish shop door with a flourish. “After you.”

  Dusty old purses lined the shop’s shelves. Dusty old books lined the floor. Scrolls, shoes, brooms, shields, and axes piled in the corner, covered in gray spider strands. Carine instantly recoiled, not at the dust, but at the enchanted objects that lined the walls. She forced her balled fists to her sides. Something in here could help. Something in here could save their lives.