The Last Dragon Chronicles: Dark Fire (42 page)

The unicorn, now on the other side of Zanna, tilted its head and looked at thegirl. Its violet gaze lighted on the mark on Zanna’s arm, literally colouring her skinthe same shade. Zanna knew she was

being scanned, but still couldn’t help but

give a gasp of surprise when Teramelle’s voice came into her mind.
 
We are one
 
, the unicorn said. And it sounded, for all the world, like Alexa.

Slowly, careful not to panic the creature again, Zanna reached out and stroked its neck. Her fingers glided through its silky mane. It responded by leaning its head against her shoulder. It was then she saw something that shocked her deeply and made her understand what its words had meant. Every picture she had ever seen of a unicorn painted its horn as a spiralling cone. But the whipped up, candyfloss image was wrong, probably because very few observers had ever come this close to see or tell the truth. The

horn was nothing more than a plain ivory

tusk, just like the horn of the sea-going narwhal. (The associations with Groyne did not occur to her right then.) What made the horn seem spiralled was a carving etched repeatedly in it, flowing round and round from base to tip: the three line shape which the Inuit called the mark of Oomara. The mark that Zanna had been

branded with.

A cry from above made her look upsuddenly. In the sky she saw Grockle (orso she thought) hovering between twoevil-looking gargoyles as if they had himsuspended on wires. Turning quickly backto Teramelle she said, “You have to helpme. I came to deliver a warning… ” Butmaybe it was too late for that? She heardanother squawk. The gargoyles were

circling, but Grockle hadn’t moved. And nowhere was there any sign of Gwillan – or David.

With a wretched groan, Gawainekeeled onto her side  again. Zanna ran toher and knelt by her head. Small wisps ofsteam were issuing from vents along thedragon’s neck. Zanna looked along thebody to the shattered wing. “I have healingabilities,” she said to Teramelle. “Can wehelp her? With magicks?” She raised her

arm.

The unicorn walked forward and

lowered its horn.
 
You must be swift
 
, it

said.
 
The great fire is coming
.

“Great fire?” asked Zanna. “What do

you mean?”

The unicorn looked towards the peak

of the hill. The moon was almost directly

above it.

In that instant, Zanna knew the answerto the question which had nagged herseveral days ago in the kitchen: why aunicorn should choose to roam the Vale of

Scuffenbury. The hill was on a vastintersection of ley lines. ‘X’ marked thespot, many, many times over. They weresitting on a gateway to the Fire Eternal. Aconduit directly to the centre of the Earth…

An unwanted delivery

“Gwilanna, stop! You mustn’t touch her!” Once again Arthur tried to lunge forward, and once again the sibyl’s magicks threw him back. This time, for his trouble, she put a constriction spell around his throat, leaving him to choke for several seconds before snapping her fingers and releasing him. He sagged forward, gasping for air. Gretel risked the sibyl’s wrath and went to his aid.

“Pathetic,” Gwilanna sneered. She

turned her attention back to Liz.

“Please, you don’t understand,” Arthur spluttered. “There was an accident. The dark fire was freed from the obsidian. It

went into Elizabeth. Into the child.”

That
 
did
 
make Gwilanna pause. With asnort that suggested she was highlydubious, she turned the isoscele and heldit flat, passing it twice over Liz’s womb. “I can detect no trace of it.”

“There’s   more,”   Arthur   panted,

regaining   his   breath.   “The   boy’s transferred his auma into one of the

dragons.”

“Preposterous,” Gwilanna said. “Show

it to me.”

“I can’t. He’s gone away – with

David.”

“David,” the sibyl repeated scornfully. “Why does that name
 
always
 
make my fingernails curl? You’re lying,” she snapped. “An elaborate deception to protect your son. You’re wasting your

time and mine, Professor. The child’s rightful place has always been with me. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Arthur raised his hand. “Very well,” he said, in a tone intended to appeal to her vanity. All he could do now was try to stall her. Hope to find a way to hit back. His first objective was to keep her talking. “You told us the boy was of no importance. A natural born. Why are you even bothering with him when there’s no dragon in his blood?”

Gwilanna laughed. Her feet scuffed the carpet. Arthur guessed she had turned away. She had always liked to stroll through her moments of triumph.

“The descendants of Guinevere, those females born from a quickened egg, have

tried many times to have children with humans, but the genetic fusion has always failed. You should applaud yourself, Arthur Merriman. Your boy was not only alive when I checked him, but he’d also survived the Ix’s obsidian. That makes

him of
 
very
 
great interest to me. Do you really think I would have shared my excitement about his potential with
 
you
 
– or even your dear Elizabeth?”

Downstairs, the back door rattled.

Gwilanna was immediately on her guard. “What was that?”

Arthur’s heartbeat quickened. He knew at once what had made the sound, but tried to show no surprise in his face. “The wind… it moves the letterbox sometimes.”

“At   the
 
back
 
of the house?” The

floorboards creaked. Gwilanna had taken

steps towards the landing. “It must be the girl,” she said, “trying to get in.”

“You wouldn’t hurt her?” said Arthur, wiggling his fingers to bring Gretel close. The potions dragon fluttered to his shoulder.

“I don’t need to,” Gwilanna said. “I locked her out.” She whipped around. “What are you saying to Gretel?”

“I asked her to soothe Elizabeth,” he said. “I may not be able to see her, Gwilanna, but her distress is plain to hear. May I give her something to drink?” Without waiting for permission, Arthur fumbled beside him for a half-litre bottle

of water. He picked it up but didn’t

unscrew the cap.

The bedsprings took the sibyl’s weight. “Stay where you are,” she said. “It’stime.”

“But the child is only three months into

its term!”

“Be silent! Do you think I don’t know

my own art?”

Arthur ran a hand inside his collar.

“You could at least tell me what you’re going to do?”

Gwilanna sighed with exasperation.

“I’m a scientist. It’s my nature to understand procedures.”

“It’s your nature to interfere,” she hissed. “It cost you dearly in the past, as I recall.”

For a moment, Arthur was a young manback in Cambridge, remembering how

Gwilanna had tricked him into ending hiscourtship with Liz – something he’d neverforgiven the witch for. With that bitternesswelling inside him he said, “I’ve neverunderstood this process, and Liz willnever talk about it.”

“And
 
I
 
don’t have time to give you

lessons!”

“Please, indulge me,” Arthur said coldly. He could hear the tinkle of a bell on the stairs.

Gwilanna, in her irritation, had missedit. “It’s perfectly obvious,” she grizzled. “When Guinevere caught the tear of Gawain she inherited the dragons’ powerto self-replicate.
 
This
 
birth has nothing todo with that. Your child is human. It can

be delivered normally. For some reason,

it’s coming far ahead of its time. You should be grateful that I can detect it. If I wasn’t here, this boy would die.”

“And how do you plan to save him?”

The sibyl sniffed. “I’m going to… What the—? How did that fur ball get in

here?”

“Through the cat flap,” said Arthur, as Bonnington  jumped up onto his knee. He immediately lifted the cat in one arm and turned its eyes towards the bed.

“No matter. Keep it under control.”

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Arthur said. He stood up as Gwilanna bent over Liz.

With a heavy
 
thwack
 
he brought the water bottle down across the sibyl’s shoulders, close to the side of her neck. Gwilanna groaned and slumped across

Liz’s body, still clutching the triangularisoscele. Arthur put Bonnington down,grabbed the sibyl’s arm and flipped herover. “Gretel,” he panted. “Can you keepher unconscious?”

Gretel flew forward.
 
My pleasure
, she

hurred.

But as she dipped into her quiver forthe flowers she needed, the isoscelepulsed in Gwilanna’s hand. A shock ofenergy raced up the sibyl’s arm andrestarted her brain as if a match had been

struck. Her eyes opened like submarine hatches. Her body jackknifed up.

She felt for her shoulder, glared at Arthur and issued a spell.

Behind him a wardrobe door flapped open and several shirts flew off the rail.

Arthur was catapulted into the space as ifa cannonball had caught him in the gut. Hewas clutching his heart as he crumpledfrom the impact. The wardrobe doorslammed shut.

“Go to him and you die,” said

Gwilanna.

Gretel was hovering, uncertain what to

do.

“And if you don’t stop that stupid animal   whining   I’ll   stuff  it   with mushrooms and eat it for my lunch.”

Gretel cocked her ear towards the Den.

Bonnington was there, making a heck of aracket.

“Do it!” snapped the sibyl.

Gretel rattled her scales. She flew to

the cat.

At last, Gwilanna was left alone to dowhat she’d come for. Holding the isoscelein her right hand, she knelt over Liz andcut a short, vertical gash in her belly. Lizjerked and uttered a pitiful cry, though itseemed to be more in distress than pain.

“Calm yourself, my dear,” Gwilannasaid. “The wound will heal, both insideand out.” She cut again, deeper, letting theisoscele seek its own path. The layers ofskin parted with no loss of blood. Anothercut uncovered the shape of the child,curled up in its sac of oovicle fluid. Gwilanna twisted the isoscele’s point,pricked the sac and let it decompress. Asmall reservoir of pale green fluidbubbled up and spilled from the dome of Liz’s tummy. It ran away over both her

hips, staining the surrounding bedclothes. She gave a slight moan and her muscles relaxed.   Shuddering   with   delight, Gwilanna put the isoscele down on the pillow, dipped her hands into the wound and drew the baby out. Straight away it felt  bony. Not at all right. Too heavy for its size. And why, she wondered, were its limbs not kicking?

She held it up to the light. “No,” she hissed, and shook her head wildly. No, it couldn’t be.

No! No! No!

It was a baby, yes, but made of clay.

In her rage, she hurled it against thewall.

With a terrifying crack, it shattered.

And out of the debris there came a dark

light.

With a gasp of terror, Gwilanna stumbled back. It crossed her mind, bizarrely, to hide in the wardrobe. But that was full of Arthur Merriman’s body.

The greatest evil in the universe flashed towards the sibyl, hovering only long enough to make her heart stop. Her eyes glazed. She sank to her knees. Her body twisted sideways and toppled over. Her head struck a carpet littered with clay. A single droplet of oovicle fluid dripped from the end of her motionless finger. Her work as a dragon midwife was done. And no one, neither human nor dragon, would mourn her.

The dark fire zipped towards the isoscele and in an instant had absorbed its

power. The ancient, magical scale of Gawain shrivelled to a crisp and fell apart in ash. The fire moved next to the dressing table mirror and let its dark reflection

play across the glass. Gawain and Guinevere were solid, in prayer. The fire could read great power in their auma, but it sensed far more in the elegant creature standing between them. Something had created a portal there. It hovered by the tip of the unicorn’s horn and went through the portal at the speed of its own dark light, gone to find its purpose in a battle taking place above a faraway hill.

When it was done, the two clay dragons came out of stasis. They stared into the mirror, as if they were looking into a different world. In fact, they were

looking no further than the garden, through the telepathic mind of Alexa’s unicorn. They saw three dragons as tall as trees land on the lawn in front of Alexa. Two of

them   were   dark   red.   Guardians.