Doubleborn (18 page)

He held the locket aloft, allowing the light to catch it as it twisted on its chain. He raised his eyes. Starback keeled in the blue air, dipped and swerved, seemed to falter. Sam’s head reeled with the movement. He steered Starback to the treetops and settled there for stability.

He spoke the opening words of the Finishing. A gust of wind stirred the ashes. He stopped, looked around. No sign of Remmble. No sign of Danwick. The tree line that had enfolded Danwick stood close by, beyond the turn. Starback looked on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than speech so he continued, louder now, more confident.

The ashes whipped against his legs, swirled round him.

Sam altered the words as he had been taught, tailoring them to the village. Eddies of wind fumbled at the houses. Little wraiths of ash formed in the current. They grew and shaped themselves. Like crows returning to the roost at evening they advanced on Sam.

The air blurred and broke. The wraith at Sam’s ankles darted up and slid through the cleft. The others rushed forward and pressed after it.

Sam found himself buffeted by them, as by a gale. He staggered. The locket grew hot in his hand. The chain writhed. He held it towards the opening to drop it in.

And a hand took it from him. ||

hardly moving his wings. He let himself glide softly to the treetop, settled on a sturdy branch, turned his head to left and right and breathed out, small tufts of smoke from each nostril.

He watched Sam raise his arm. Saw the glint of sunlight on the silver. Heard the words of the Finishing. Watched the wind whip up the ash. Grew fearful as he saw the dark eddies rise up, spinning. Hopped from one clawed foot to the other as he saw the air shudder and split.

He arched his wings and lifted into the lifting air.

A red stain spilled across the landscape beyond the village. Starback saw it as he dived towards the ash-peopled village.

Sam’s hand was in the grip of one who seemed to be another creature of the ash. Sam’s wrist hurt and Starback felt the pain. When Sam pulled away Starback’s wing was wrenched. The dragon staggered, righted himself and soared down, fire foaming from his mouth. He flew straight at Sam. The impact jarred them both, knocking Sam to his knees and sending Starback spinning out of control until he flicked his tail, flew up, veered and righted, and swooped again to land next to Sam, sending puffs of ash into their faces.

The jolt had freed Sam. The cleft in the air snapped shut. The chain, half-in, half-out, hung as though suspended by an invisible thread. A dozen or so dust eddies hovered where the opening had been, trying to get through. They disturbed the chain. They moaned, as the wind complains in autumn branches.

Starback nuzzled against Sam, making him get up.

The stain was spreading. It had reached the field’s edge, drawing nearer.

Sam stood, then toppled over, his ankle twisted and useless from the force of Starback’s assault. He couldn’t walk.

“I can see them,” he said. “They’re fast. Too fast for me.”

Starback crouched. Sam put his arms around him. Together they rose up and left the world of ash for the world of air.

It was an unsteady flight, and Sam was glad when they landed on Starback’s perch, high atop the trees.

The red stain spilled over the hedgerow into the village. The dust eddies fled shrieking from it. As it grew closer it revealed the shapes that made it. Hard and smooth, shine and shout, red and roaring, hot from hate.

“Kravvins,” whispered Sam.

And he knew that Remmble had been right to run, and he knew why Danwick would not let the others call the young man a coward.

These creatures were monstrous. Not just their appearance, but their movements, their strength. There was something about them like a force of nature. Sam wanted to forget that he had ever seen them, but he knew they would stay in his memory for ever. This moment, this first sight of them, would never leave him.

Sam couldn’t hear the words the kravvins mouthed. With his dragon’s ears Starback could.

“No kill.”

“Kill.”

“Dead before.”

“She here?”

“Not she?”

“All kill.”

Their voices carried no emotion, no thought. Only the words told their confusion and alarm.

“Stay kill.”

“She come?”

They swarmed over the ash, looking for prey, jabbing the grey ground with sharp legs, pushing smooth faces deep into the debris, bumping into each other in their haste and urgency to kill.

Sam thought of the frog stone and wondered what he had worked.

“Well,” he said to Starback. “It’s done now. Whether it should be or not.”

He rubbed his ankle. The pain was wearing off.

The kravvins had finished at the village. Outriders darted in all directions. Some came halfway to the trees, listened, waited, darted nearer, then fell back and rejoined the main group.

Noon gave way to a softer time and they moved off, away from Sam, back where they had come from.

“Back to Boolat,” said Sam.

Starback stepped off the branch and flew round, high above easy sight, until they were far off.

“I ought to get down,” said Sam.

Starback was losing height, dropping towards the ash heaps. Sam let his mind shift to one side and he saw as Starback saw. He saw the silver chain with its locket. Saw the small groove in the air where the door to the Finished World had been. Saw a woman, alone, tall and graceful, approach the village. She was a tiny figure to Sam, indistinguishable. Starback saw her grey eyes, her straight hair beneath the scarf, her set mouth a determined line. Sam saw her look up and see the dragon, wheeling above and ahead of her.

She stopped, put her hand to her head to adjust the scarf, drawing it over her mouth and nose. Looking away from Starback she continued towards the smouldering ash, heading straight for the locket. When she reached it she put out her hand and grasped the chain, letting the locket settle against the back of her hand.

Starback flapped soft wings and drifted down to land just out of her reach, close enough to threaten.

“What brings you here, dragon?” she asked.

Sam caught his breath. People were usually more wary of dragons, more ill at ease.

“Lost your tongue?” she said, smiling.

Starback flicked his tail, sending a fine spray of dust into the air. She tightened her scarf around her mouth. Sam wanted her to take it away so he could see her face clearly.

“I’m just going to take this,” she said, indicating the locket. “It shouldn’t be left like this, should it?”

Sam wanted to laugh at the idea of a woman being able to draw something out from the Finished World. Perhaps she was half-witted? Not apprehensive about a dragon and now expecting to reclaim the locket.

“And then you can come home with me, if you’d like,” she said. “There’s food there, and lodging for the night.”

For a moment Sam had an impulse of fear, that she was not talking to Starback at all, but to him. Dragons don’t need lodgings, and though Starback liked a slice of ham or a hunk of cheese from Flaxfold, dragons need no feeding. They find their own food when they need to.

“I’ll just…” she said, and, to Sam’s astonishment, she drew the chain out from the cleft and held the locket in her hand, free from the grip of the tense air. The cleft snapped shut with a click and the scar disappeared.

“Shall I wear it?” she asked.

She unclasped it and held her hands to her neck.

“No. I don’t think so, do you?”

Starback flexed his claws in the ash.

“It’s not mine to wear. And it’s not mine to give or take. I’ll look after it until I can find a proper home for it.”

Sam half-closed his eyes. Starback half-closed his eyes. He looked at her from far off and from up close at the same time. And she knew he did.

“Who are you?” said Sam.

But Starback said nothing so she didn’t hear.

“If I go now I’ll be home soon after dark,” she said. She pointed to the road beneath the trees that Sam had settled on.

“It’s that way. I’ll be beneath the trees. Don’t lose sight of me, will you?”

She pocketed the chain and locket and walked away.

Starback launched into the air with a single flap of wings, a flick of tail, a spurt of fire and a flurry of ash.

Sam clambered down the tree, ripping his clothes on the branches, testing his weight on his bad ankle, which only throbbed a little now and ached even less.

He sat on a low branch and watched for her approach. She passed beneath him, face still covered. He let her walk a little along the forest path and dropped down, as silently as he could.

“There you are,” she said, not turning. “Are you going to walk with me?” ||

in a creased green light.

Sam had first met Megatorine, the roffle, in a forest such as this and he looked out for one now, even though he was no more likely to see one there than anywhere else.

He hugged his cloak tight to himself, not for warmth. He fingered the hem and could feel the image of a memmont that was woven into it.

The woman walked with easy strides, her face still covered. The path was narrow at first, and grew wider as they approached the end of the forest. Sam lagged behind, partly from the sense that she was leading him along a way that she knew and he didn’t, partly to keep her in sight.

She stepped to one side to allow him to draw alongside her.

“How did you do that?” he asked. “With the chain.”

She loosened her scarf and let it fall away from her face. She was younger than Sam had thought.

“I’m Winny,” she said.

“You can’t do that,” said Sam. “No one can mess with the Finished World. That chain was stuck.”

She smiled and walked on for a moment.

“You’re supposed to tell me your name now,” she said. “I tell you mine and you say you’re pleased to meet me and you tell me your name.”

Sam fell back and walked behind her again, though the path was still wide enough for two. He was pleased when the tree cover unfolded and he could see Starback overhead. It still took a great effort for him to reconnect the boy and the dragon. It made his head ache. He fuzzed his eyes and saw himself and Winny walk from the trees into the open. He saw, a few miles ahead, a house, with outbuildings, a high chimney that smoked in the summer.

“We’re nearly there,” said Winny.

“Wait,” said Sam.

Winny stopped.

They cast long shadows on the yellow stubble.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

She pointed to the ribbon of grey smoke.

“It’s not far,” she said.

Sam held out his hand.

“Give me the locket.”

“Didn’t anyone teach you to say please?”

“Give it to me now.”

Starback circled higher and higher, almost out of sight.

Sam shrugged back his cloak to free both his arms. He leaned to one side on his staff and Winny smiled.

“I’m not joking,” said Sam. “Give it to me.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that you remind me of someone. He used to lean on his staff in just that way.”

Starback wheeled and dipped, flew low over the field and circled just above their heads.

“You’re leading me into a trap,” said Sam.

“No. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Why would you?”

“I want to help,” she said. “I didn’t know you’d be at the village.”

“Why are you leading me to the kravvins?”

“I don’t understand. I’m not.”

“Give me the locket.”

She frowned.

“Please.”

She handed it over.

Sam opened it. On one side was a tiny glass mirror, the size of his thumbnail. The other, a delicate picture of a girl, about thirteen. Sam guessed it was Remmble’s sister and he felt sad. He hoped that she had been one of the ash eddies that had slipped through into the Finished World.

“What is it?” asked Winny.

Sam moved closer so that she could see inside the locket. The sun reflected a circle of light on her tunic.

Sam cupped it in his hands and gasped on it. The mirror misted over. When it cleared they saw, not themselves, but a house, a chimney, grey smoke.

“Is that where we’re going?” asked Sam.

She nodded.

“Look closely,” he said.

She leaned in.

“See them?”

She drew in a startled breath, nodded again.

“Kravvins,” she said.

“All around the house,” said Sam. “You’re leading me into a trap.”

“No. I’m not. But we have to go there. Now.”

He caught her arm.

All at once she looked older, stronger. She pulled her arm away with a force that unsettled him. He steadied himself with his staff. Starback pounced forward, mouth gaping and fire dribbling out.

“Don’t stop me, Sam,” she said. “Don’t try.”

Sam rapped his staff on the hard earth. The field made a responsive, low booming. Winny tripped and fell sprawling on her face.

“Oomph,” she gasped.

She tried to stand. Roots grasped her wrists, her ankles, twining themselves round, tight. She was anchored to the earth.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” he said.

“And why would you need to? Look at you. Do you even know that you stand like him? That your voice lilts like his? That you have the same arrogant tilt to your head, the same way of keeping to yourself, the same way of looking right into a person?”

Sam knew who she was describing; he just didn’t recognize himself in it.

“That’s right,” she said. “I knew Flaxfield longer than you ever did. I knew about you before you knew about yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean I should trust you.”

“You stay here if you like. Or run away with your dragon. I don’t care. But I need to go to my father. He’s in danger. Now set me free.” ||

and the forge. There was no way in or out. The kravvins formed a circle, three deep, all around it. They were chanting.

Sam and Winny kept their distance.

Sam leaned on his staff, his eyes closed, his hands tight on the smooth bark. Winny rubbed her wrists. The roots had gripped her tightly.