Fireblood, p.4
Fireblood, page 4
Finn and Tula stood still, unable to speak. All this time, thought Finn, we were hiding this stuff from Dad. And he’s so obsessed with his work that he never noticed … never worked it out for himself.
Patrick’s jaw clenched. ‘And if you’d talked about this with Augustus, perhaps he’d have explained things to you, maybe shown you a thing or two about the powers we have: creating fire, healing, flying—’
‘Seeing in the dark, not getting burnt…?’ whispered Finn.
Patrick nodded. ‘Exactly. And that’s not all. There are rarer things that only a few firebloods can do, like reading minds or the scrying or creating fidgets or whispers.’
‘Like your Aunt Myra,’ interrupted Angelina, ‘who should never, ever be trusted.’ She threw a meaningful look at Patrick, who shook his head.
What? signed Tula.
‘Ignore her,’ said Patrick. ‘She’s just jealous. Myra can create a fidget, an enchanted creature that can find information and bring it back, or a whisper that can carry a message far and wide.’
‘Lies, more like,’ snapped Angelina.
Patrick rolled his eyes and continued. ‘You’ll learn about the houses, like Siarad too, who are the strongest, and about the singing…’ He sighed. ‘Can’t believe your dad didn’t explain. Families. Unbelievable. That’s why I’m so attractively single.’ He turned his head and winked at Angelina. She rolled her eyes at him, and was about to speak, but he continued, saying, ‘It is a lot to take in, and there’s no time to explain more because there’s a bit of peril going on. That power the dragons had to stop the Earth falling apart? The most important one of all? Your father is the only one who has it.’
Angelina turned her gaze to the children. Tân whisked inside Tula’s shirt, leaving only the tip of his nose and a curious eye blinking out from behind her collar. ‘And your dad is the only one that Telling Stone in your rucksack will trust.’
The musical voice from the backpack suddenly spoke again. ‘I’m glad I haven’t been forgotten in the mists of time, Angelina, thank you. Information: the Clifton Bridge tunnels are closing in five minutes, and those Venomous are waking.’
Angelina bowed. ‘Thank you, milady.’ The sack she was holding suddenly bulged. ‘Okay. Gotta go.’ She fixed the children with a clear-eyed stare and leaned closer, speaking in a quiet voice, ‘Do whatever Patrick says – he’s one of the original knights, your father’s best friend and the bravest fireblood I know: one of the last of the immortals.’ Tula nodded straight away – which surprised Finn – and Angelina smiled, which changed her face from Scary Warrior Queen to something else that made Finn feel more courageous somehow. ‘Don’t tell him I said that. See you at the fortress.’
She was gone before they could say goodbye.
6
ith a deep bow in Finn’s direction, Patrick said, ‘Milady,’ in respectful tones, which made Finn frown.
He’s talking to the Stone, bumbrain, signed Tula, not you, and Finn pulled a face at her.
Patrick coughed and stood straight again. ‘Milady,’ he said, ‘is there any equaliser hydrant in this house?’
There was a resounding silence from the bag.
‘It would be nice,’ said Patrick tightly, ‘really quite lovely, milady, if you could let bygones be bygones. I made a mistake. Are you going to make me pay for it forever?’ More silence. He sighed and gestured to the children. ‘C’mon. Show me your father’s office.’
What mistake did you make? asked Tula, pointing out their dad’s study on a mezzanine level above, and what exactly is this equaliser hydrant?
‘In the game, equaliser hydrant is the stuff the alchemist has to throw down volcanoes or into tsunamis or over earthquakes to calm everything down,’ explained Finn. ‘Fighting fire with liquid fire.’
‘Exactly,’ said Patrick. ‘Your dad is not just some egghead geology professor – he’s the reason this planet hasn’t disintegrated into a gazillion lava flows and broken bits. When we ran out of Oriel’s blood to control the Earth’s forces, he came up with a potion to use instead.’
The equaliser hydrant, signed Tula.
‘Yep.’ Patrick’s expression was deadly serious. ‘It’s probably in the watchtower back at the fortress – the opener will unlock the door. We need it desperately. It does what you said, and then some. Just a few drops of it into a volcano?’ He made a spreading gesture with his hands. ‘Mellows the whole mess out – no one dying, no disasters, happy planet – but without your dad to make more of it for us, or to tell us exactly where he left the last bottle, and without the precious Stone to tell us the answers we seek, we’re all in a world of trouble because the Venomous are rising up, wanting the chaos of their underworld to take over up here.’
‘Oh, now he calls me precious!’ came a grumble from the bag.
Patrick frowned. ‘She’s got into a bad habit since the Last Battle of not giving us advice that could lead to our harm, which is ridiculous! Her job is telling, thus Telling Stone, and it’s up to us to decide what to do from there.’
‘Such disrespect!’ shrieked the Stone. ‘If I could be assured your decisions would be the right ones, I’d certainly be doing telling, telling, telling. But you make stupid decisions all the time, don’t you? Especially you, Saint Patrick of the Green Isle, with your unsuitable girlfriends and—’
‘Okay, okay,’ interrupted Patrick, his hands out in front of him as if warding off actual arrows. ‘I—’
‘And if you’re not careful I’ll never speak to you again!’
‘The hydrant!’ blurted Finn. ‘It could actually be in Dad’s office.’ He pointed to a rope hanging down in the middle of the room. ‘You can climb to it over there, or up the wall here with Tula and me.’ He began scaling it quickly, his fingers and toes gripping the grooves between the cracks with ease, still talking to Tula over his shoulder. ‘The hydrant is a secret recipe of different ingredients and the whole point of level five in Flybynight Warrior is working out what the ingredients are and how much you need of each one.’
At the top of the wall, Finn and Tula leaped on to a cable traversing the space, then walked a tightrope up to a mezzanine level with a steel door.
You got past level five? signed Tula while they waited for Patrick. He was climbing the rope impressively fast for an adult. You know what the ingredients are?
Finn heaved out a shaky breath. ‘No. Remember the time I got so cross I blew up the plug? The last day Dad was here?’ Tula nodded. ‘It happened because I was getting frustrated with the game. That other gamer who sends the messages—’
Flybynight Solo.
‘Yes, him, he kept defeating me.’
You were behaving like a spoiled brat, signed Tula with some satisfaction. All that shouting and yelling.
‘Dad said it was important that I worked it out for myself. He wouldn’t do the ingredient list for me. He said—’
He said anger was dangerous, and you had to stop being so angry.
Finn bit his lip, watching Patrick swinging across to them. ‘You think Dad saw what happened with the plug?’
Um, signed Tula, looking over at the huge scorch marks. I’m kind of confused about how you could think he didn’t? She tugged his hand. In the game the firebloods have wings!
Finn put up his hand as if to stop her moving forward. ‘They’re born with them.’
Patrick landed with a thump.
So we can’t have them?
‘Can’t have what?’ asked Patrick. He stopped short, staring up at their dad’s office door. It was a three-metre-tall slab of solid steel, and a strange mirage of images seemed to flow across it – like a moving satellite picture from outer space. ‘Wow. This is it? The famous Augustus’s laboratory?’
Tula frowned at Finn – famous Augustus? – and pushed the door open. They all trooped inside. Patrick’s jaw dropped. It felt as if they were stepping into an enormous inside-out globe. Walls stretched up, up, round and back down again, seething with a vast image of the Earth’s surface. In the middle of the room was a round table with no legs. It was ancient and wooden and stained and scarred. Names had been carved along the outside of it – a bit like the graffiti you see on old school desks. On it was a scattering of personal things, including a letter opener that had a blunt blade for slicing envelopes neatly. Its golden handle was shaped to look something like the end of an enormous key, with grooves and holes and complicated patterns carved into it. Finn went straight to it and put it in the front pocket of the bag so it wouldn’t scratch the Stone.
Patrick walked around slowly, staring at the walls. ‘It must be, somehow, a satellite image,’ he breathed. ‘Augustus, you genius… Look here, how it shows the clouds, ocean currents – oh, for snakes’ sake, look at that – the detail! You can see the heat from the Iceland volcano. Must tell George, and…’ He ran out of words, turning this way and that, amazed.
Tula watched him closely. We’re not usually allowed in here, she signed.
‘But you searched the place when you realised your dad wasn’t coming back,’ replied Patrick.
Finn nodded. ‘The Telling Stone told us we’d need something of Dad’s to find him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Patrick, distracted by a trail of smoke emerging from the sloping hill in Iceland. ‘I wonder if the scryers have seen this activity from Hekla.’
‘Why did the Venomous monsters come to our house?’ asked Finn. ‘Was it for the letter opener – the key?’
Patrick looked over to the children. ‘This particular troop was hunting you and the Stone too, so you’d tell them where the hydrant is. That Craven guy has been after it for a long time. He’s got some Venomous skills and a dangerously hypnotic whip that he got from who knows where, but he prefers life up here, wheeling and dealing. There’s a lot of money in having the answers to everything.’
He came over to the table and stared at a huge book on the desk, open at an image of a dragon’s head, eyes wide and bright, seeming to stare directly into theirs.
‘Oriel,’ said Finn. ‘She’s in the beginning of the game, but she dies.’
Patrick began examining every millimetre of the table. ‘She’s the dragon I was talking about, the last one – Oriel. She trusted your ancestor ‘Andrew’ with the most precious of all her hoard of treasure, the Telling Stone that you carry in your bag. It caused a lot of trouble with David, but that’s a story for another day.’
Finn exchanged a glance with Tula, and she gave a small nod. ‘The Stone usually sits on the table,’ he said. ‘In the middle. We didn’t realise that she spoke until Dad went missing and we found her on the kitchen counter.’
Patrick pulled a face. ‘Over the centuries, the Stone has grown stronger and wiser than any scryer we’ve ever had, and your family has always cared for her. Like I said before, she only speaks when her words can save lives without endangering any at all, and even then she’s choosy about who she chats to and what she says.’ He glared at the rucksack on Finn’s shoulders. ‘Have you asked her where your father is?’
‘That’s what she said after Dad had gone. That’s how we realised she talks.’
The Irishman’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline, and his voice went high and squeaky. ‘She said where he is?’
‘No,’ replied Finn hastily. ‘She said, “The Underworld has your father, but I don’t know where he is. Don’t bother asking.”’
All the light went out of Patrick’s face. ‘Oh,’ he said, an expression of fear visible for just a second.
Just that one word sent the taste of struck flint into Finn’s mouth. It was strong enough to raise goosebumps across his skin. Tula was watching him carefully, so he smiled as best he could.
‘And she also said to take something of his?’ queried Patrick. ‘Milady,’ he said, addressing the rucksack. ‘Would you care to explain?’
‘No! Absolutely not,’ came a voice from the bag, and Patrick sighed.
‘Tula has his amulet,’ said Finn, ‘and I put on the bandanna Mum gave to him.’ He waved his wrist to show a piece of cloth wound round his wrist. Patrick had resumed his fruitless search of the table. ‘Maybe we should just get going,’ Finn added, restless. ‘Tula will be able to find Dad. She has a connection with him.’
Patrick looked at Tula sharply. ‘I thought you didn’t know where he is either.’
The connection comes and goes.
‘It’s better than nothing. Shen will help to strengthen that connection.’
Who is Shen?
‘Jingshen, actually. The fortress’s oldest scryer. She’s been by George’s side since even before Oriel was killed.’ Patrick grinned at Tula. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll like her. She’s sweet and gentle and always making sure we do the right thing. The Stone loves her. Don’t you, milady?’
Finn felt warmth against his back from the bag and took a breath to ask another question, but Patrick had turned away and was pointing a finger at a mountain in Russia, with smoke drifting from its summit. ‘Did Augustus ever say anything about Mount Elbrus?’
‘That’s where we were heading,’ said Finn. ‘Our Aunt Myra came to see us before he left. She was talking to him about Elbrus and wanting to send us away, as usual.’
Patrick had gone very still at the mention of Aunt Myra, so Tula explained.
Aunt Myra is…
‘Our only living relative,’ interrupted Finn hastily, throwing Tula a look. ‘We didn’t want to worry her with anything. She and Dad don’t get on, but sometimes she looks after us when he has to go away…’
We wouldn’t know how to get hold of her anyway, clarified Tula.
‘Elbrus,’ said Patrick, his smile growing big again. ‘Fantastic. We’re just going to do a quick detour so the experts can skill you up, source your weapons and find you a creature to keep you safe.’
Detour? signed Tula.
Finn frowned too. ‘Then we’ll go straight there and get Dad back.’
‘Easy peasy,’ agreed Patrick, and the Stone snorted rudely as Finn’s mouth flooded with the taste of rust again.
7
hey were nine hours into the ‘quick detour’ when Finn next opened his eyes. Tula was staring out of the car window at the pitch darkness outside, and she had the rucksack on her lap. Finn saw that her knuckles were white and her jaw clenched as if she were grinding her teeth. Her ratty black coat could not have been keeping her warm, even though the car was toasty, because she was shivering ever so slightly. Tân was tucked into her neck, one of his tiny feet on her cheek.
‘Tula?’ murmured Finn. ‘Are you okay?’
He noticed Patrick’s eyes slide to him in the rear-view mirror, but he said nothing, and neither did Tula. Finn swallowed, his mouth feeling dry and furry from the pizza all those hours ago, and he cleared his throat. He pulled on Tula’s hand, but she didn’t respond.
Tula? he tried again, this time just signing.
She blinked once, and Finn got the feeling that was the only response he was going to get. He didn’t let go of her hand, though, just shifted a little to the left so he could see out of his window.
He saw they’d left the motorway and were travelling on a small road overhung with trees bent under the weight of thick snow. He had a sense of water nearby, and every now and again caught sight of a dancing reflection, but it was mostly dark.
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘Far north of Scotland,’ replied Patrick. ‘Just looking for the parking near the shore. There it is.’ He drove quietly on to a pristine white track, deep snow crunching under the wheels. Finn squeezed Tula’s hand, but she just looked at him with huge, frightened eyes, as if she were seeing something far away that he couldn’t.
Patrick parked the car deep in scrubby bushes, hidden behind trees, and shifted in his seat to look at them. ‘We’ve got to be very quiet, okay? Very quiet. Old McKay won’t be pleased if we make a disturbance. Tula?’
There was no response.
Patrick looked over at Finn. ‘I don’t want any running off, or any funny business. You must believe that we’re here to help you. And that you can help us. If you want to.’
The taste of orange was reassuring, but the flavour of rust tinged Finn’s tongue also, and that told him there was something in what Patrick had just said that wasn’t quite true.
We’re here to help you. No, that seemed true enough.
You can help us. Yes, true.
If you want to. The taste. So, not true. Whatever it was that Patrick and his people wanted, Finn and Tula may not want to give it. His eyes slid to the bag, and he saw Tula hunch over it again.
The Telling Stone. Were they going to have to fight to keep the Stone?
Patrick rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be daft, laddie! I don’t want to open up any communications with that Stone, thank you very much.’ He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. ‘She was rude enough the last time she had an actual conversation with me. Made horrible allegations. Caused all sorts of unnecessary upset.’
Patrick got out, opened Tula’s door and walked down to the shore. Finn realised when he tried to get out that the rear doors had been child-locked. They’d been trapped all along, just like before. He took a breath to still the choking thud of his heart, and slowly let go of Tula’s hand. Climbing stiffly over his sister, he got out of the car, sinking up to his knees in snow, and pulled the door wider.
‘Come on, Tula,’ he whispered, and in the freezing moonlight he saw his breath fug out into a curling mist. Maybe Patrick is taking us to a hotel. A hotel with a pub downstairs, with sausages and mash and bright green peas. Plus gravy.
The thought of a square meal just minutes away made him start towards Tula. He pulled her gently from the car, taking the bag from her. She resisted, keeping it close, but Finn whispered, ‘It’s okay, Tu. I’ll strap it on my front, all right? And you stay with me.’
She might have nodded – he wasn’t sure – but she came reluctantly, keeping on his right side, moving slowly and jerkily through the snow as if in terrible pain.
