Dragonfire (2 page)

The dog slipped through the gate and barked again. Wherever she was, he must leave her. The boy
felt as though a piece of his body were being torn from him. Perhaps a piece of his very soul. But he turned away and followed the dog.

Once outside the gate, the dog began to lope. The boy ran, stumbling through the narrow, twisting alleyways, following where the animal led. The dog could easily have outdistanced him, but it slowed enough to allow the boy to keep it in sight. They left the town behind them and entered a small, sheltered wood. The boy cast quick glances around as he ran and, in spite of the distress that ran with him, he marveled. It was quiet here. He had never been in such a peaceful place. So far away from the bustle and noise that had always before surrounded him.

Then a twig snapped behind him. He pivoted around and almost fell. Was that a shadow he saw? Darker than the others, slipping behind a tree. The boy’s heart pounded harder. Was it the stranger? Had he seen him leave? Followed him? He stumbled again as he turned back and raced even faster after the dog. The dog turned its head briefly, then seemed to increase its pace.

Finally, when once more the morning cocks began to crow, and they were deep into the wood, the dog stopped. The boy threw himself down on the moldy, leaf-covered earth, panting. The moonlight had gone; the first rays of dawn were streaking the sky to the east, but their light did not yet reach into this grove. The boy lay on his back, trying to
regain his breath, to prepare himself. His mind raced ahead, then stopped, blocked. Despite all of the secret hours spent listening to the Protector, he still could not fully imagine what was to come.

The sun broke through the trees; the boy closed his eyes against the sudden dazzle. When he opened them again, the dog—as he knew it would be—was gone. In its place stood a tall, dark, fierce-eyed man with a mane of long brown hair that swept back from his brow and fell to the shoulders of his sweeping cloak.

“The time to take your name has come, Dahl,” he said. “Your journey begins.”

He turned and reached up both hands as if to part the space in front of him. Around his fingers the air began to thicken, almost to become visible. As Dahl watched, its transparency clouded. The trees behind it blurred. An opening appeared. At first small, the opening enlarged as the Protector worked his way down. He slid one arm into it, then reached for Dahl with the other.

“Quickly now,” he said.

Dahl felt an unbearable pressure. The Protector’s grip on his arm was a band of fiery ice. He felt himself being pulled into the void that existed on the other side of the portal.

Then, from out of the darkness behind him, at the last possible moment, he felt another hand seize him in a grip even stronger than that of the Protector.

“No!” he screamed, but it was too late. The yawning maw of nothingness sucked him in. Sucked the very breath out of him. And whoever it was that held him in so fierce a vice went too.

Dahl struggled back to consciousness. A thick, yellowish fog surrounded him and hid everything from sight; total silence enveloped him. Slowly, as if being reborn, he became aware of his body. Every joint and bone hurt. The pain in his head was so great, he could not even focus on his own confusion. Even though the Protector had tried to tell him how it would be, he had not been prepared. He closed his eyes and sank back into oblivion.

He did not know how much later it was when he awoke again. The pain in his head had lessened; he
was able to grasp what was around him. The fog was retreating. Glimpses of strange, tortured shapes played back and forth in open patches in the mist. An insidious dampness hung heavy in the air, and there was a smell of rot. He shook his head, trying to clear it, to make sense of what was around him. He panicked for a moment when he couldn’t see the Protector, then began to breathe again when he made out his tall form standing in the mist beside him. For a moment he relaxed—then he remembered. The hand! The hand that had reached out from the darkness behind him and clasped onto him! He whipped his head around, ignoring the searing pain that swirled inside it with the movement. And there, huddled on the ground beside him, gasping for breath, was Catryn.

As he stared, too astounded to speak, a slight moan escaped her. She opened her eyes, straightened, and rubbed her forehead as if she felt the same pain as did he. She looked around, turning her head carefully, then up at Dahl.

“Catryn!”

The Protector, stepping forward out of the mist, towered over them.

“How dare you?” he thundered at Catryn. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I wanted…I wanted to know.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes were fixed on Dahl. “I had to know. And I had to go with you.”
The words were desperate, but there was an echo of her old defiance in them. Then, in the barest of whispers, “Where are we?”

“We are in Taun,” the Protector answered. “Dahl’s true home. And you should not be here. I fear the consequences of what you have done, you stupid girl, but there is no returning.”

Dahl finally found his voice. “Nor should she be returned,” he shot back. A sudden feeling of lightness washed over him. Catryn was here. Whether it was meant to be or not—she was here. With him.

“She saved me.” The words poured out in a rush. “If it had not been for her I might have been captured. She deserves to be here. If she had stayed—if they had found out she was the one who helped me—she would have been beaten, perhaps killed. Of course she cannot return!”

“This was not meant to be.” The Protector’s voice still raged. “This changes things. If I could, I would send her back, no matter what her fate.”

“You would not be so cruel!”

“Cruelty is sometimes necessary. We cannot always avoid it.”

“Of course we can. It’s just a matter of choice!”

The Protector drew his cloak around him. The anger seemed to drain out of his body. He shivered in the dank air, and sighed.

“I have taught you as best I could, Dahl, all these years. But you still have much to learn. You still have
a lack…” He stopped himself, then made an effort and went on more strongly. “But learn you will. There is no avoiding your future now. You must succeed. The fate of a world depends on it.” He looked again at Catryn. “We can only hope this rash action of yours has not doomed us all at the outset.”

Catryn frowned. Confusion and fear were beginning to give way to an anger of her own. She started to speak, but he forestalled her.

“Come,” he said to Dahl. “Bring the maid, then. We cannot tarry here. We are too close to the crossing. This place is evil.”

Catryn jumped to her feet. “Will you not explain more? I would know—”

“I’m certain you would,” the Protector interrupted. A dryness crept into his voice. “I have had occasion to observe you well over the years. A stubborn maid. Strong-willed. And not overly fond of dogs.”

Catryn’s face went white, as if she had suddenly remembered.

“You were the dog,” she said.

“Yes, I was the dog. But this is not the time for explanations. Come, or stay here.” He turned and strode into the mist.

Dahl and Catryn caught up to him just as the last shreds of fog were dissipating. The strange, tortured shapes Dahl had glimpsed earlier could now be seen to be trees, but trees such as he had never known. They were huge, their trunks stolid and as wide around as wagon wheels; nevertheless, as Dahl watched, they swayed in the dead, windless air like ponderous reeds before a breeze. He found himself cringing from them if they encroached too closely on the path. Catryn, too, eyed them with a suspicion that bordered on fear.

“Are they trees?” she asked. “They seem alive. But not alive as trees are, more like—creatures.”

Dahl shook his head. “I know no more than you,” he answered.

“But your friend—the dog.” She stumbled as she said the words. “He said this was your home. Do you not know it, then?”

“He is my Protector. But I know only what he has told me,” Dahl said. “I have not been here since I was a babe. It is as strange to me as it is to you.”

“And as fearsome?”

Dahl did not answer. How could he admit to fear so early on in his quest?

Gradually, as they made their way along a twisting and winding path, Dahl became aware of a whispering and sighing that seemed to fill the air around him and keep pace with him. He could see no sign of any living creature, but the feeling of life all
around him was inescapable. He felt they were being watched, their passage reported. The ground beneath his feet sucked at him with each step. He felt it letting go with greater and greater reluctance. Above him he could catch glimpses, through the tangled branches, of a deep blue sky. There was a sun—there had to be to create the light that filtered through the trees—but it was as if the trees were determined to keep it from him. As soon as a bare patch appeared and he glanced up to catch sight of it, the branches closed in again, forming an impenetrable barrier.

“Dahl?” Catryn’s voice behind him was breathless, as if she were having trouble keeping up.

He turned to wait for her.

“That is your name, is it not? It is what your—Protector—called you?”

“It is.”

“Why did you not tell me before? Why did you keep it a secret for so long?” She winced as a branch brushed her cheek.

“It was not a name to be used in that place. There, no one could know my true name.”

“In case you were discovered? But you were, anyway, weren’t you? Who was that man who came to the inn? Why was he after you…?”

Dahl looked up. The Protector was so far ahead of them that he was out of sight. A twinge of panic made him catch his breath.

“I cannot explain now, Catryn. We must keep up with the Protector.”

“You are frightened, aren’t you?” Catryn challenged. “You’re just as frightened as I am.”

“We must keep up!” He turned away from her and strode, almost ran, after the Protector. Catryn hesitated for a moment, then followed.

It was a relief when the path they were taking began to grow steeper and the trees began to thin out. But Dahl found it harder and harder to keep going. Behind him, Catryn, too, labored as if each step was an effort. Even the Protector had slowed his pace.

The trees are reaching out to us, Dahl thought. Hanging on to us. They do not want to let us go. How much longer? he wanted to call out. How much longer will this last? But he didn’t have the breath to form the words. The Protector strode ahead with such determination and purpose that Dahl doubted he would have answered him.

Rocks and pebbles began to cover the narrow trail. At last they began to climb what seemed to be a mountainside and to leave the forest behind. As they moved higher and higher, Dahl felt his spirits lighten. It was an incredible relief, even though the sky above was hidden now with thick, dense gray clouds. The murmuring he had heard among the trees ceased, but in its place a sighing cat’s paw of air sprang up, just as alive, just as menacing.

The Protector did not look back. Dahl and Catryn struggled behind. They fell, they picked themselves up. The Protector did not pause for rest. Their feet, in their ragged, inadequate shoes, were bruised from the stones underfoot, their hands cut and torn. As they climbed, the air grew thinner and colder. Dahl concentrated on keeping the Protector in sight. He and Catryn helped each other, but still the dark figure ahead of them forged on. Finally, the path narrowed to such a degree that it seemed to become impassable. A thick mat of bushes encircled them. Only then did the Protector stop.

“You have done well,” he said. “The pace has been hard, but it was necessary.” He fixed his eyes on Catryn. “You surprise me. I thought you would have been long lost by now.”

“I am not that easily gotten rid of,” she answered. Her face was pale and pinched with weariness, but the words were defiant.

“So it would seem.” The Protector sighed. For a moment his shoulders sagged, and even he looked weary. Then he drew himself back up to his full height. “We can rest here,” he went on. He raised his hands in the same gesture he had used before, and the matted underbrush parted smoothly for him.

“How…?” Dahl began.

“This place is friendly to me,” the Protector answered. “To you as well, Dahl. Follow me.”

This time it was effortless. Behind them, the opening closed itself noiselessly. The murmurings of the air ceased; the sudden silence was a shock. Dahl and Catryn found themselves at the entrance to a cave.

“Wait here,” the Protector said. “I will make ready.” He stepped into the darkness beyond the opening.

Dahl peered after him, but the blackness was impenetrable. Slowly, however, Dahl became aware of a lightening within. There was no sign of a fire, but a brightness began to shine in the far reaches of the cave. Warmth reached out to them. The Protector appeared. He beckoned to Dahl and Catryn.

“Now. Come in.”

They followed him. The brightness became a soft, pervasive light. The Protector had spread his cloak over the earthen floor almost at the back of the cave. Beyond them a dark pool of water glittered.

“Sit there,” he said.

Dahl and Catryn sank down. The Protector dipped gourds into the pool and filled them. He gave one each to Dahl and Catryn, then filled one for himself and sat down beside them. Dahl sipped, then drank in long, thirsty gulps. The water was cold enough to cause pain. There was a sharp purity to it Dahl had never tasted before.

When they had slaked their thirst, Dahl lay back. Now that it had finally happened—the summoning
he had been waiting for all his life—he was too dazed and stunned to take it in. All he wanted to do at this moment was rest. His mind refused to go beyond that.

The Protector also relaxed, his shoulders against the cavern wall. Not so Catryn. The water and the rest seemed to have revived her. She leaned forward, her body tense, like a cat about to spring.

“Now,” she said. “Now, may I have an explanation? I have been half torn apart by being pulled into the most menacing and unpleasant place I have ever seen. I have been dragged up a mountainside until I am dying with weariness, and I am starving. Could one of you please tell me what is going on? What are we doing here, and where are we going?”

“It is not for you to question,” the Protector answered. “May I remind you, you brought this all on yourself? You are a nuisance to us here, and we owe you nothing. Not even explanations.”

Dahl made as if to speak, but Catryn forestalled him.

“And may I remind
you
that it was I who saved Dahl from that terrible man at the inn? While you were away doing whatever dog thing you felt you had to do, it was I who hid him!”

“Like a small cat, you are,” the Protector said. “A quarrelsome little cat.” Tiredness colored his voice. He folded his arms tightly across his chest and seemed to draw into himself. For the first time,
Dahl wondered how much the crossing and day’s journey had cost him. “You are in Taun. This is Dahl’s true world.”

“Dahl’s true world?” She faltered. Her eyes slid quickly around her, then fastened back onto the Protector. “We are no longer in our own
world
?”

“We are no longer in
your
world,” the Protector answered.

Catryn crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly, as if for protection. Her eyes darted to the dark recesses of the cave again. “I half suspected…but I could not believe…” She drew a deep breath. “If that is true…” She made an effort to steady her voice. “How…how then did Dahl come to my world? Why did he come?”

“Questions you do not need the answers to. It is not your business.”

She bridled. Some of her old fire returned. “I am here, am I not? In Dahl’s world, not my own. It would seem to me very much my business.”

The Protector closed his eyes. “I must rest now,” he said. “You would do well to rest, too, while you can. We have a long way to go.”

“Where…?”

Dahl caught at her arm. “Leave him,” he said. “He is right. We must sleep.”

“But why are we here, Dahl? Why are you here? Surely, I have a right to know at least that?”

“Because…” Dahl paused. He looked at Catryn.
“Because I am the King of Taun,” he said.

The words echoed and then lost themselves in the cavern. For once, Catryn seemed speechless. Then she managed a small whisper.

“King? You are a
king
?”

Dahl pulled himself to a sitting position, then forced himself to his feet. His fingers rubbed absently at a pebble he had picked up off the hard-packed earthen floor. He stared down into the depths of the pool. His reflection stared back at him, dark and distorted. Then, for just a moment, it was as if the eyes looking up at him were not his own. A window was opened into another mind—a mind that was the very essence of evil itself. The pebble flew out of Dahl’s hand into the pool. The reflection shattered.

“I am,” he said.