The Firebrand Legacy

by T. K. Kiser

  Rickshaw swung his ax, and they scattered. The blade came nearest to Giles, but he lurched back and it missed his neck by inches. The raider moved in, towering.

  David loaded his bow and released. The shaft sailed through the air and pierced Rickshaw’s flank. He grimaced, but did not back down. The other two centaurs charged.

  They were going to die right here, right now.

  Clang.

  The raider, his ax locked against Giles’ sword, grunted as his strength diminished. Giles’ sword dropped into the dirt as he crouched down

  Rickshaw raised his ax again, and the thin shaft of another one of David’s arrows pierced his chest. Rickshaw looked at the arrow, grasped it in his fist, and pulled it right out.

  He raised his ax again. Giles picked up his sword and fought back.

  The centaurs swept forward like wind. Metal flashing everywhere, Carine hid behind the whinnying horses where they were tied. The princes stepped farther and farther back with each blow. Their backs bent as they lifted weapons in defense. They wouldn’t hold out long. Her mind whirling, Carine’s trembling fingers searched her pockets for the protection stone.

  Bang.

  A centaur struck the butt of his ax against David’s helmet. The helmet dented and David dropped.

  Carine found the protection stone and took it in her hands. The second the skin of her fingers met the engraved letters of the Manakor word, pain seared through her insides. Tears pooled as her whole body burned from the inside out.

  The raider that had knocked out David pushed through the horses, his bloodshot eyes locked on her. The rain had lightened to a trickle, but it was clear from his soaked hair and tail and his worn-out clothes that this centaur had been outside a long time and that he was practiced in snatching hearts throughout Wyre. His ax was smaller than Rickshaw’s but that hadn’t seemed to matter for David.

  Carine endured the pain that exploded through her stomach, raged through her lungs, and tore through her heart. She squeezed the stone as the raider lifted his ax like a club, ready to knock her out and kill her in one blow. Heat rose in Carine’s forehead and arms. The cool of the outside air made her want to vomit as she looked up at this tall raider bringing down his ax.

  She ducked, squeezing her eyes shut, but after a moment, when nothing had happened, she opened them again.

  The raider looked just as confused as she was. The ax was in a different position. The raider’s arms were heavy, as though he had already swung. His face contorted into a grimace, and he lifted his ax again.

  This time, pain pulsing through her from the protection stone, Carine kept her eyes open. The ax swung and Carine cringed, but when the blade hit, she felt nothing. Not a single thing except a puff of air. The raider, however, shook with the impact that traveled up the ax.

  “What are you made of, stone?” he asked, his eyes crazed. “Are you a Heartless One?”

  He stepped back, tripping over his hooves, face ashen like a sheet.

  The pain pulsed through her, tearing her within. Not able to hold it any longer, Carine let the protection stone fall from her grasp. In that moment, the searing heat curled away. Carine panted over the earth.

  Giles’ sword clanged against the third raider’s weapon. The largest raider, Rickshaw, had stepped from the fight to treat his arrow wound. Carine’s opponent watched everything, unmoving and scared.

  Giles was weak. Sweat soaked through his clothes. Even through a layer of chainmail, the sweat stained his royal surcoat. There was blood on it too. He defended himself again as the third raider fought. They were going to lose.

  The torch extinguished in the mud.

  Shivering in the chill after the pulses of heat, Carine saw again the glow of orange in the valley. She stepped back, seeing that the second raider was regaining his confidence, seeing that he was going to try for her heart again.

  The raider clopped forward as Carine reached into the mud for the protection stone. It had fallen somewhere. She scrambled with her fingers, but he was already raising his ax, already seeing the helplessness in her eyes.

  Carine stepped back to run, but her foot caught the fabric of her cloak, and its string caught around her neck where she was already tender from the tree. Falling back onto her hands, her fingers felt the smooth face of the protection stone. She pulled it close, just in time to ward off the raider’s ax.

  Fire burned within, but it didn’t help Giles. Rickshaw hit Giles and he thudded to the ground.

  The third raider pulled out a dagger. “Now for their royal hearts...”

  The second raider fumed. He pursed his lips and swung the ax one final time to destroy her. It fell, but instead of hitting her pained body, the blade bounced back up, knocking out the raider instead. The centaur’s eyes crossed as his body processed the blow. His four legs folded beneath him and he fell in a heap.

  Carine released the words, and the pain rolled away, but her protection stone couldn’t explain the proactive nature of the magic, knocking out the centaur on its own.

  The third raider hadn’t noticed. He knelt over David with his dagger at his heart. The dagger leapt from his grasp and sailed over the hill.

  Carine was not touching any Manakor now. Someone else was doing this.

  “What the—” The raider looked up just in time to see a scorched tree fall on him.

  Rickshaw bolted away, still bleeding.

  Carine scrambled to the princes. Giles lay breathing shallowly and completely knocked out. She thanked the flames he was still alive, though he had bad cuts in his arms and side.

  She turned to David. His helmet lay beside him in the mud. His wet hair was caked in dirt and blood. There was a terrible mark on his cheek and a patch of blood tricking from his forehead.

  “David, are you okay?”

  He didn’t answer, so she took her fingers and felt his neck for a pulse. The warm, beating rhythm filled her with relief.

  A hooded figure entered the clearing.

  45 An Uneasy Reunion

  Carine’s heart pounded. He had a small frame, a green cloak, and black gloved hands. The man she recognized as the sorcerer pulled back his hood. Didda’s face—so familiar, so loved—stared at her with all the love of a father that missed her.

  “Carine.”

  Relief competed with anger. Despite her suspicions, it was a jarring sight. The sorcerer was Didda. Carine stood frozen, her hands in fists at her side. The flameless torch lay at her feet.

  “What happened to your hair?” Didda asked, a slight smile on his lips. He stepped forward, as if to embrace her.

  Carine stepped back and pressed her temple. It felt strange not to run to his arms at once. For so long, she had yearned to sit beside her father once again, to embrace him and know he was safe. But now he stood three feet away and she couldn’t bring herself to extend her arms. There were questions too big to overlook. “You’re using Manakor?”

  “Don’t be afraid, Carine. I did this all for you.”

  Carine’s stomach turned as Didda mumbled something, and another azalea sprang up by her foot.

  “Did you get the message I sent you the other night? I thought it might cheer you up. I was hoping that since you wouldn’t turn back out of fear that you might come home out of love. I kept asking myself how I would tell you that I—”

  “You killed Limly,” she whispered.

  He drew back. “That was an accident. I had only meant to scare you, to make you turn back home to us, but I lost control, and when the knife struck him…I didn’t know how to live with myself. After that, I tried to stop speaking Manakor for the first time...” Didda muttered something, and the flower withdrew back under the soil.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Didda took a breath. “First, you should know that I didn’t cut out my heart.”

  “I know.” Carine’s voice broke. The emotional distance between them pained her. She barely knew him.

  “These powers were what killed your granddad. O
n his deathbed, your mother—not knowing about any of it—brought him a wishstone that said long life.”

  “I thought Granddad’s heart gave out.”

  “It did. The minute he took the wishstone in his hand, the pain overwhelmed his system and he died.”

  It made sense. If holding the protection stone hurt that badly for her, a young and healthy girl, it would be unbearable for a frail elderly man.

  “That’s why I always wear gloves.”

  “You told me it was because you use knives to cut leather.” Even as Carine spoke, it made sense. Of course Didda would want to avoid written Manakor on Esten’s walls.

  “The pain is the same reason I told you that the dragon language kills. I never wanted you to touch a Manakor word. It’s painful. In a sense, it really does kill. It killed my father.” He took her hand in his gloves. “The truth is that when your servant friend died, I swore off Manakor. But I couldn’t not speak it. Whenever I speak a word in that language, my heart cools. It feels wonderful. But when I don’t pronounce for a while, I burn. I thought I would die, so I commanded a flower to grow. Instantly, my insides cooled. I just…I thought you needed more convincing to turn around. When I set the vines on you, I thought that would be it and that you’d turn back for sure.”

  “You wanted to scare me away from the dragon,” she said, tears brimming. “It worked, Didda. You did scare me. And you’re frightening me now. So what is this? You’re addicted to the powers?” His eyes closed as the flower grew up again. “When you told me you didn’t want to frighten me, you just didn’t want me to know what you’ve done, to see the monster you’ve become.”

  “At that time I didn’t want you to find out.” He patted the back of her hand. “And when I wounded your friend the prince, there was heartbreak in your eyes, Carine. That broke my heart too. I never meant to hurt you. This whole time I’ve only been trying to keep you safe.”

  “How long has this been going on? My whole life?”

  “No.” Didda shook his head. “My father warned me about the dangers. When Selius came to threaten us, I ran to the nearest wish vendor for a list of translated Manakor words I could use. I realized I had to study a little before I could extinguish Selius. Once I did, you and your mother had already left the house.”

  One of the princes groaned. It was Giles, waking up.

  Her heart ached. “What is it that you’re doing to your love for me? You are soiling it, Didda! You want to keep me safe but at what cost? Terrorizing Esten? Killing servants? Destroying cities? Was it you that caused the storm on the ship?”

  “That was a mistake,” he muttered. “I followed after in a small boat that moved through the water with my prompting. I caused the storm to turn around the ship, but at that time I was ill practiced. The storm almost killed you. And I was not trying to terrorize Esten; I was trying to find you. Thank the flames your mother found out you’d gone with the princes to the healing pools.”

  Pity poured from within her. Some of her father’s actions were his fault, and some were the result of the infectious magic. Carine struggled to discern where the line was.

  “Didda,” she said slowly. “You saved my life just now when you scared away the raiders, but I need you to stop speaking Manakor. It’s making you sick.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You didn’t scare us back to Esten, because there is something important here I must do. Navafort needs Kavariel’s flame, and I need to relight my torch.”

  “Not with that beast’s flame. Not you too, Carine. It’s time to come home.” He muttered something, and the flower shrank back into the mud.

  “Stop that!” Carine hissed. “The mispronunciation is addictive. It poisons you.”

  “Let it,” he said, gripping her arm. She resisted, but he overpowered his daughter and dragged her across the red pine needles.

  46 One Option

  “You’re not yourself!”

  Didda only released her once they had descended the side of the hill away from the dragon. They couldn’t see the princes up at the crest.

  Didda grabbed her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Neither are you.” His face seemed to growl, but his voice was just as calm as ever. “What happened to my prudent Carine? You are walking toward dragons and making friends with daredevils. You’re coming back with me right now. You’re not going to put up a fight. You are going to go home, hug your mother, make shoes, and be happy.”

  “You can’t force me to be—”

  “You won’t leave the house. Not until I’ve seen that you’ve changed back, that you’ll make safe decisions. Do you understand?” Didda glowered. “You will never see those bad influences again. You will comfort your worried mother. You will do what you are supposed to.”

  This was going way too far. She watched his lightly-stubbled cheeks, the same ones she’d examined when he’d read her bedtime stories. She saw his too-dark eyes, but within them was a sparkle of love. She put her hand tenderly on his shoulder. “Didda, I know you’re in there somewhere. I know it hurts when you don’t speak the language, but you have to stop.”

  “You obey me,” he said wearily. “Not the other way around. This is the last time I’ll tell you. Come back with me now, or I will have to do worse than knock out your beloved royal friends.”

  His threat saddened her more than scared her. She took her hand from his shoulder in revulsion but sighed in her heart. “I’ll go back with you,” she said. “But not because you threatened my friends. You need serious help, and I want to help you, Didda—truly.”

  His eyes narrowed as he searched hers. “Either way, you’ll be safe.”

  She forced a smile, seeing a glimpse of his old self. A breeze sent shivers through her damp hair and clothes. Clutching her arms, she said, “I left my cloak up there.” Thank the flames she had. It was her only excuse to see David and Giles one more time, to shake her father and capture the flame for them so they could deliver it back to Esten.

  “I’ll get it,” Didda said, eyeing her. “You stay.”

  He strode up the gentle slope, but she didn’t stay put. Carine dodged around Didda. For a split second, anger silenced him.

  “Carine?” Giles called.

  Carine shivered, wishing that Manakor would not tempt Didda to hurt him. She looked back in time to see him racing after her.

  “Carine!” he shouted. “Come back here!”

  “Carine?” Giles yelled again.

  Carine ran up over the hill’s crest.

  “Thank the flames,” Giles breathed.

  His reaction touched her heart, but there wasn’t time for gratitude. “Where’s David?”

  Giles straightened his shoulders, a sadness in his eyes. “He ran off.”

  “Dragon’s bane,” she whispered. To get David to hand over the gullon blood, she had told him that her cloak was enchanted. It wasn’t. “Did he take my cloak?”

  Giles looked down into the glowing clearing, where the Heartless Ones, like little dots, ebbed ever closer to Kavariel. “Why? Yours wasn’t green, was it?”

  With that, a tree by Giles creaked.

  “Move!” Carine yelled, and he did in time.

  She cast a glance back to her father, who stood, cloak flowing at the top of the hill. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Stay safe,” she said to Giles, and sprinted down the dragon-side of the hill, only guessing where David might have gone. She had to set this right.

  47 Swirling Gold

  Carine skidded over pine needles and braced herself on trees as she descended the hill full speed.

  “Carine,” Didda called after her.

  She didn’t look back.

  “Carine, stop!”

  “I have to fix this,” she called back, doubting he was listening.

  She stumbled and ran, padding closer and closer to her most dreaded place in the world. Ten steps ahead, a tree cracked in the middle and fell in her path.

  “Stop that!” she called back to Didda, who didn’t
respond.

  Carine pushed up her sleeves and crawled over the tree. She’d been a fool to tell David her cloak was fireproof. Sweat beaded on her forehead and under her arms. And she was a fool now, going unarmed into a swarm of Heartless Ones.

  Another tree popped and crashed. She didn’t bother yelling this time, but when she scrambled over, scraping herself on the tree’s spear-like branches, Didda scowled behind her.

  “Don’t take one more step, Carine!”

  She ignored him again. Didda wouldn’t hurt her, but every step she took to save David was killing Didda on the inside. It struck her that this was his worst fear too. Didda’s only remaining daughter now ran toward the same fire-breathing dragon that had killed Louise.

  She skidded to a halt.

  The ground plummeted at her toes. Beyond the drop, it leveled out and the trees thinned, clearing the view to a hundred silhouettes: the Heartless Ones. Orange light glowed and subsided as the gray scales of Kavariel glinted in the sunlight.

  In the corner of her eye, Carine caught a rush of motion. David was sliding down the slope, cloak on and vial in fist.

  Didda panted behind her. “Please don’t go down there. Please, Carine, for my sake, for your mother.”

  She turned. “I’m sorry,” she said and slid down the decline.

  Gold and other treasures swirled around the water as the dragon breathed flame. The ground pulsed, the trees ripped out by their roots, and stones flew toward the dragon’s wounds. The woods were bare; any woodland creatures had long since fled or died by now. Kavariel’s flame spurted out, hot and powerful, engulfing a few Heartless Ones that didn’t shield themselves in time.

  Carine darted to David. His hair flew up at his forehead, where beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face. One hand held the gullon blood, the other held his bow. The cape flapped behind him.

  “David!”

  He swirled. The moment he saw her registered as relief, but he didn’t answer. He held his finger to his lips to quiet her, and darted behind a leafless bush.