Banished (11 page)

I start smiling feebly, ready to tell him not to be stupid, but the words die on my lips. A dark shadow is coming straight at us at an incredible speed. A part of me still wants to laugh, to say
I was hallucinating, that the pain from leaving the protective circle of the house somehow scrambled my brains. The laughter dies on my lips because another more primitive part of my brain
recognizes that silhouette, the upbeat of those huge wings, the massive serpentine body and the giant triangular horned head with its wide protective crest.

‘It’s not real.’ My voice quivers and I clear my throat. ‘It’s the sorcerer, right? It’s sending us this vision, to scare us.’

‘It’s real. It’s as real as you and me. I think you should start driving.’ He snaps his fingers impatiently before my eyes, momentarily blocking my view of this
improbable, incredible dragon. ‘Kit, listen. We need to go. Now.’

I nod and turn the key. Lolita fires on the first go and I throw her in gear and we race forward, towards the oncoming dragon.

‘This is mad,’ I say, shifting gears as we speed ahead. ‘How is it even here?’

The dragon is bigger than I can fully comprehend, perhaps the size of a very large plane. A heavy gust of wind hits us from nowhere and I feel Lolita rock on her chassis. We’re going at
forty-five miles an hour down a dirt road, yet it feels as if we’re standing still. Outside, the wind tears at the park and the trees lining the road whip wildly about like tiny saplings in a
breeze.

‘I can’t tell if it’s going to attack us or fly right over,’ Thorn tells me as I concentrate on not going onto the verge. ‘It’s not slowing down at all.
I’ve never seen anything like it.’ His voice sounds distant and when I glance at him he’s staring at the dragon as if mesmerized. I reach over with my left hand and punch him on
the leg, one of Jamie’s special punches. Thorn lets out a yelp. ‘What was that for?’

‘Before you fall under its spell or something, shoot it!’

Thorn gestures at the car, the sword and me in desperation. ‘How? The bow is in the back and I can’t really menace it with a sword while sitting in your car!’

I hand him one of the pistols that I’d slid into the panel of the door next to me. ‘Use that!’

He gives the wooden handle of the antique pistol a cursory glance and shrugs. I open his window and watch him lean his body halfway out of the window like some Bruce Willis wannabe and take aim
at the oncoming dragon. The thing is huge! I have no idea what effect a bullet would have on the dragon, but it was worth a shot. I doubted that it would even manage to fire the distance.

Thorn lets out a shout and I hear him fire the pistol. There’s a flash from the muzzle just before he falls back into his seat, gasping. The dragon sweeps over us in a rush of wind and the
car whines under the unexpected onslaught of heavy wind and rain that follows in the dragon’s wake. I struggle to find the windscreen wipers to clear my view. How we went from bright sunshine
to hurricane weather in a blink of an eye is beyond me. The clouds above us broil with menace and I lean forward to look out of the windscreen.

The weather has gone crazy. Fat drops of rain fall from the black clouds and obscure everything around us. Thorn struggles but eventually finds the button and the window whirs up. His wet hair
is plastered to his face and he is shaking from the cold. His lips are verging on blue.

‘Where’s the dragon?’ he asks, twisting backwards and peering out of the back window. ‘I think I shot him, but I don’t know.’ He wiggles the pistol. ‘Do
we know what the range is on this thing? Would the bullet have even hit?’ When I shrug in reply, too keyed up to wonder about range, wind interference and other things that go into getting
off a good shot, he swears and drops the pistol on the floor of the car. He proceeds to wipe ineffectually at his wet hair and face while I try and keep the car on the road.

‘I can’t see it,’ I say, peering out of the windows and using my mirrors. I get Lolita started up again and I pray I don’t hit anything as I floor the pedal.
‘Let’s just get out of here.’ I try not to think about a dragon being loose in the countryside. Jamie never thought to teach us how to fight dragons and the only reason I even
looked at the books in the library about them was because I thought they were cool and, of course, I didn’t really take their existence seriously. Who would?

We race through the rain, our eyes on the road before us, behind us, to the side of us. I can’t even begin to think how a dragon came to be at the Manor. Dragons have not flown in this
world for hundreds of thousands of years. These days they only exist in movies and fantasy novels.

‘It’s back,’ says Thorn, his voice hoarse. ‘Behind us.’

I look in the rear-view mirror and I let out a soft moan. I press down harder on the pedal and Lolita answers without coaxing. I throw a prayer of thanks to Megan for doing
impossible things to car engines. The rough road ahead of us curves and I see a gate. And beyond the gate I see an actual tarmac road.

‘It’s gone.’ Thorn’s right. There’s no sign of the dragon near us. Where has it gone? I slow down and we peer in all directions. In our race I’d not noticed
it but we had climbed a small hill and our view of the forest and the Manor is unobstructed, with the heavy rain giving the familiar landscape a desolate air.

For a few seconds we sit quietly, peering back through the back window. Thorn grips my arm. ‘There!’ I follow the line of his pointing finger and then I see it. The dragon must have
climbed high into the sky and banked over the forest. Its course is set for Blackhart Manor.

We sit in stunned silence and watch the creature pass over the wards without any harm and head straight for the house. It opens its massive jaws and a sound like the world tearing itself apart
emanates from it in waves, rolling over the Manor. For a moment everything looks fine, but then the house starts shaking and trembling, as if the earth itself is trying to dislodge it.

Beside me Thorn is very still and hardly seems to breathe. The wind whips around us, shaking the car from side to side. I unlock my door and struggle out, ignoring my impulse to run, to hide
from the big bad thing flying above us. The rain is icy against my skin and I’m drenched within seconds but I only notice it peripherally.

My eyes are riveted to the spectacle below us. A vortex of spinning darkness opens in the middle of the Manor and keeps growing, consuming the house, brick by brick, inch by inch.

A noise reaches me, dampened by the clouds and the rain and wind howling around me. A shriek, sounding very human, lifts from the depths of the house as it continues its slide into the
abyss.

The man from the forest strides towards the house, a swirling mass of energy trapped in his hands. He seems completely unconcerned about the dragon circling back towards the house, and as he
gets to the edge of the garden, he launches the cone of energy at my home.

Numb with shock, I watch as the dragon drops lower, swooping towards the Manor, chasing the cone of energy. The dragon rears back its triangular head and unhinges its jaw. The pulse of pure
blinding power that emanates from it hits the house, in conjunction with the energy from the denim-clad guy, and rips apart the final wards protecting the house.

I feel them tear to shreds like a physical blow to my chest and double over, a moan wrenching itself from me. I drop to my knees and tears stream down my face as the place gives a final jolt
before sliding like sludge down a sinkhole.

I catch movement to the side and watch as the dragon flies towards the man who just blasted my house to bits. My breath hitches, fully expecting the dragon to crash to the ground, but instead it
curls up into itself somehow as it plummets to earth. It strikes the ground in a flurry of wings and when it straightens up, my world-view of things that can be and that can’t be changes once
more.

A tall figure rises upwards in its place, dressed in a cloak that whips around his long legs. The newcomer clasps the first aggressor in a brief hug, before turning to survey the achingly empty
black pit where the Manor once stood.

I lean against the car, racked by sobs, letting the tears mingle with the driving rain. In just over a year I’ve lost two homes. First, the home I shared with my nan, burned to the ground
because an Unseelie noble hated the Blackharts – even ones who refused to accept their lineage – and now the home Jamie brought me to after Nan’s death.

The Manor became a place where I could rest, feel safe and be part of a family I never knew I had but so desperately needed.

The rain keeps coming and I start shivering and grip myself hard for warmth but also comfort. The torn earth where the house stood looks like a raw wound amidst the neat landscaped gardens.
Emotions churn inside me as I watch the distant group carousing, counting the loss of the Manor as a major battle won.

Thorn, who must have joined me at some stage, reaches for me and helps me stand. He runs his hand down my forearm and grips my hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, his voice hushed.
He makes a gesture that expresses the futility of trying to convey his feelings but I do understand. There are no words to express the sadness and anger, so I give him a nod.

‘I know,’ I say dully. ‘Let’s get in the car and figure out how to make all these bastards pay.’

The storm follows us, increasing in strength and anger. Two hours into our journey I’ve stopped shaking and crying and sit behind the wheel of Lolita tense with
concentration as the car is hit by sheets of rain. Thorn sits beside me, rigid in his seat, his face pale. We’ve propped a towel from one of the backpacks against the door so that his arm
doesn’t rest against the metal of the car, but even so, he doesn’t look well.

‘I’m hungry,’ I say, slanting a glance at him. ‘Are you okay for us to stop and get something to eat?’

He nods mutely and I turn my attention back to the cars ahead of us on the road and when we see signs for the next service station, I indicate and pull in.

Inside, the place is far busier than it should be but we find a free table at the back of the communal eating area. I buy a selection of sandwiches, crisps and drinks and we tuck in without
bothering to make small talk.

I feel bleak, empty and worried. I showed Thorn how to use my mobile in the car and he’s checked it every few minutes for messages, both texts and emails, but no word from anyone. Anxiety
eats at me and I wonder if we are doing the right thing, travelling to London. I don’t have Olga’s number and the number listed on the shop’s website just goes to voicemail.

I look up from eating and notice the TV screens facing the eating area. Several of them hold reports about the unseasonable weather, reporting that Cornwall and Devon seem hardest hit by the
freak hurricane winds and rain. There are warnings of local flooding and that motorists should be extra careful driving. Two schools have been shut and there’s footage of a giant oak tree
torn from the ground and flung across several cars.

‘The dragon.’

I jerk with fright and look at Thorn. ‘What? Did you see it? Is it here?’ Sitting at the back of the restaurant area, there’s no way he can see the front of the building. There
are no windows, but it doesn’t stop me from staring around.

‘No. Yes, the dragon is here.’ He gestured in a big circle with his hands. ‘The dragon is here, in this realm, on your earth, but not here-here.’

‘Yes, I know that. We both saw it.’ I am tempted to tut at him, but something in his gaze stops me. ‘What do you know that you’re not telling me?’

‘I think I know what it is.’

This time I do tut and make a hand-swirling motion to show him that he has to go on. He shakes his head at my childishness but does continue.

‘When I was little, my mother used to tell us stories of the Time Before Time. Her favourite stories were about dragons. She always made them sound noble and interesting. Not this.’
He shakes his head and rubs the cut above his eyebrow. ‘Having a dragon in this world, in the Frontier, is more dangerous than I can explain. These storms we’re seeing are the
dragon’s presence unbalancing your world. There is a reason the dragons were banished when they were, all that time ago. The world needed to thaw, to learn how to be green again.’

I put the cup of coffee back down on the table.

‘Are you talking about an Ice Age?’

He nods. ‘Essentially, yes. Dragons are elemental beings and they are powerful. Their essence or rather their life force is fed by the earth’s magic. They suck worlds dry and leave
destruction in their wake. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ His eyes rake my face and I nod vaguely, not really understanding but unable to say otherwise. ‘If you or your
family or any of my people go up against this dragon when the time comes, they will have to be very close to use their magic.’ He pushes a piece of salad around on his plate. ‘My mother
always said that no sorcerer was ever able to stand against a dragon on a fair fight. Not when using magic at least. It’s like fighting fire with fire. Any fight will have to be hand-to-hand
combat.’

‘That is spectacularly crap.’ I stare blankly at my empty mug of coffee. ‘How about cannons? Can we shoot it with cannons?’

‘Honestly? I have no idea.’

‘Who are we going to see?’ Thorn asks me after we’ve driven another hour. I’ve shown him how to operate the radio and we’ve gone through talk
radio, news, jazz music, classics and then hip hop.