Fireborn Read online

  “Come on. We’re going home.”

  His face was angry. He grabbed Perry by the shoulder to hurry him up. The young roffle sprang to his feet and backed away.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” he said.

  “Home. Now.”

  Megawhim seemed to notice Cabbage for the first time.

  “We haven’t got time to plant a row of candle trees and wait for the moon to light them,” he said. “Come on, Megapoir.”

  Perry glanced at Cabbage then glowered at his father.

  “My name’s Perry,” he said. “And you can stop that roffle-talk. Cabbage knows all about it.”

  Megawhim crossed the kitchen and grabbed Perry.

  “You’ve been too loose with your lips,” he said. “You won’t be coming back Up Top for a long while.”

  “I’m not going back. Not yet.”

  Cabbage thought the roffle was going to hit Perry. Flaxfield seemed to think the same. He stepped forward and said, “We should all talk, old friend.”

  The roffle rounded on him.

  “You killed that man. I don’t want Perry anywhere near any of this.”

  “Please,” said Flaxfield.

  Megawhim hesitated.

  “Please,” said Perry.

  “I want to talk as well,” said Cabbage.

  Megawhim stamped off. He yanked a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down.

  “In here,” he said. “I don’t want to talk in the same room as the man you murdered.”

  Flaxfield gave a grim smile.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Cabbage cleared away the food from the table and they all pulled up chairs, Megawhim mumbling complaints all the time under his breath.

  “Flaxfield,” said Cabbage, “why did you kill that man?”

  At last, there was silence. They all looked at Flaxfield and waited.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I did kill him,” he said. “We all saw that.”

  Megawhim started to speak. Flaxfield held up his hand for silence. He looked directly at Cabbage.

  “You’re my apprentice,” he said. “Have been for six years.”

  “Yes,” Cabbage agreed.

  “Have you ever seen me hurt anyone or anything? Think hard.”

  Cabbage didn’t need to think about it.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Well, you have now,” said Megawhim.

  Perry glared at him. “Let him finish.”

  Cabbage gave him a grateful smile.

  “Have you ever seen any of my magic go wrong?” asked Flaxfield.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  The wizard stood up.

  “Suppose,” he said, “I pick up this kitchen knife.” The knife had a bone handle and a long blade, worn thin with years of sharpening. “To cut myself a slice of mutton,” he continued.

  Cabbage held his breath. He knew the knife was very sharp because he had used it himself not many minutes ago.

  “Now,” said Flaxfield, “suppose that the terrible roffle here,” he indicated Megawhim, “suppose he grabs my arm, overpowers me, and plunges the knife into my excellent, if ever-hungry young apprentice.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And the boy dies.”

  Megawhim glared at him. Perry and Cabbage listened, open-mouthed.

  “Who killed the apprentice?” asked Flaxfield.

  “He did,” said Perry, pointing at his father.

  “But I’m holding the knife,” Flaxfield argued. “It’s in my hand. I’m covered in his blood.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Cabbage. “He forced your arm. He’s the one who stabbed me.”

  “Look here,” said Megawhim, “this isn’t right.”

  “No,” said Flaxfield. “I’m sorry. It isn’t nice, being accused of murder, is it? Especially by an old friend.”

  Megawhim looked embarrassed.

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t you,” said Flaxfield. “Let’s say it was a stranger who burst in and did it.”

  “It still isn’t your fault,” said Cabbage.

  Flaxfield sat down.

  “You’re right,” he said. “But a knife is a dangerous thing. And anyone who picks one up should be sure he knows how to use it safely.”

  “Where’s all this going?” asked Megawhim.

  “I didn’t kill the innkeeper,” said Flaxfield. “I made an easy spell to make the door fly open. And I spilled beer all over him, to give him a soaking. He was listening in to us and I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

  Megawhim grunted.

  “I held the knife,” said Flaxfield. “Someone else pushed it into him and killed him.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Perry.

  Flaxfield smiled at him.

  “Something made my key hot this morning. Someone changed the beer into something else. Something that burned right through his flesh. The pain and the attack killed him. But I did not do it.”

  Perry nodded. Cabbage realized he had been holding his breath for too long.

  “Megawhim?” said Flaxfield.

  The roffle scowled.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t help him.”

  “That’s the worst part,” said Flaxfield. “It took me by surprise. And it was very powerful. It was like being hit on the head by someone who crept up on me from behind. If I had seen it coming. If I had been ready for it, perhaps I could have saved the innkeeper. I don’t know.”

  He was still holding the knife, turning it over in his long fingers.

  “It was the same with the memmont,” said Cabbage.

  He explained how it had felt when the whistle he had made with magic reached the memmonts.

  “It was like when you’ve made a garden fire, putting on a few pieces of wood at a time, letting it burn steadily. Then, all at once, it flares up, out of control. Catches the side of the house, or a tree. And it’s off. Too late to stop it. It was like that. I made the whistle with the magic,” he looked nervously at Flaxfield. “And I used just enough magic, no more. I was trying to hide it from you. Then, when it reached the memmonts, it slipped away from me, and grew huge, and I couldn’t stop it.”

  “Exactly,” said Flaxfield. “That’s just what it was like. Something else seized it and took over.”

  He gave a solemn look around the table.

  “Something very powerful,” he added.

  “Something wild,” said Cabbage.

  “I was lucky,” said Flaxfield. “When I stopped the memmont from attacking you. But,” he continued, “I only tried to stop it, not hurt it. I wanted to turn it back into a memmont. I thought I had just made the spell too strong. Now I know that it wasn’t that. Whatever wild magic is out there killed the memmont.”

  Another silence filled the kitchen.

  “What does it mean?” asked Megawhim. He was quieter now.

  “We have to find out,” said Flaxfield. “But first, we should leave here.”

  “That’s good,” said Megawhim. “We’re going home.”

  Perry and Cabbage looked at each other.

  “There will be people arriving,” said Flaxfield. “We must go before they get here.”

  “Are we just going to leave the innkeeper here?” asked Cabbage.

  “I’ll perform the Finishing for him, then we’ll leave. We’ll use the back door.”

  The late afternoon sun was welcome after the gloom of the kitchen. Flaxfield moved quickly, his cloak floating out behind him. Megawhim stamped over to the three memmonts and prepared them for the journey home. Cabbage and Perry left the courtyard through the big wooden gates and sat on a grassy bank, looking up the road to see if any travellers were arriving.

  “What’s it like being an apprentice?” asked Perry.

  “It’s all right.”

  He flapped a hand in front of his face to drive away the midges.

  “What’s it like being a roffle?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been
anything else.”

  “I can’t really remember being anything else but an apprentice. Do you often come Up Top with your dad?”

  “Mostly. There’s only us so I’d be on my own if I didn’t.”

  “What about your mum?”

  “She died, when I was little.”

  As an apprentice to a wizard Cabbage had been to lots of houses just after someone had died. It was always sad, but it was worst when there were small children left without a mother or father. He started to say something to Perry and was interrupted by Flaxfield calling out.

  “Cabbage. Cabbage!”

  “Over here.”

  Flaxfield stepped through the stone archway leading to the inn yard.

  “No magic. Understand?”

  “All right.”

  “I mean it. Not even the smallest spell. Nothing.”

  “Yes. I understand. I’m not stupid.”

  Flaxfield didn’t like cheek. Cabbage knew things were serious when the wizard ignored it this time.

  “I’ll come and talk to you in a minute,” he said, ducking back through the arch.

  “It’s all right,” said Perry. “It was a long time ago. I don’t really remember her.”

  “What about school?”

  Perry plucked at a small celandine. He snapped the stem, then pulled the petals off.

  “I don’t go to school. I help Dad find the memmonts.”

  As though he had called them, the memmonts appeared in the gateway. Megawhim followed, then Flaxfield.

  The wizard beckoned the two young ones over to him.

  “We’ve had a talk,” he said. He paused. “And you can stay with us,” he said to Perry.

  Perry slammed his barrel-pack down and jumped up on top of it.

  “Until the harvest is over,” said the wizard. “Then you have to go home.”

  “Thank you,” said Perry.

  “Thank your father.”

  Perry stepped down and went to Megawhim.

  “Thank you.”

  Megawhim snorted.

  “Just make sure you behave.”

  “I will.”

  The roffle turned and clicked his tongue for the memmonts and walked off. They followed him, strung out in a line. They crossed the grass bank, turned left and headed for a dry-stone wall. Megawhim turned his head.

  “And look after yourself,” he called.

  Perry ran after him. The roffle caught him in his arms and they hugged.

  “Be careful,” he whispered. “I’ll be back for you when harvest’s over.”

  “I’ll get them to bake you a special pie, for the big supper,” Perry promised him.

  “You do that.”

  Megawhim dragged his sleeve over his eyes and put his hand on Perry’s shoulder.

  “You do that, son.”

  He stepped behind the stone wall. His head dipped down and the next moment he was gone, and the memmonts with him.

  “I like stars,” said Perry.

  They were lying on their backs looking up into the night sky. Flaxfield was a little way off. He had built a fire and was cooking a rabbit on a spit.

  “We don’t have stars in the Deep World,” he said.

  This started so many thoughts in Cabbage’s head, so many questions, that he didn’t know where to begin.

  “They’re almost better than magic,” said Cabbage. “but sometimes they are too loud and I get confused.”

  Perry sat up and leaned against his barrel-pack so that he could look at Cabbage.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When they’re all speaking at once,” said Cabbage. “I can’t make out what they’re saying.”

  Flaxfield threw some roots into a pot of boiling water that he had hung over the fire from his staff.

  “Won’t be long,” he called.

  “What are they saying now?” asked Perry.

  Cabbage sat up.

  “Nothing, of course. They’re not saying anything tonight. That’s what’s so strange.”

  Perry was about to ask the next question when Flaxfield called them over. The rabbit meat was nicely crisp on the outside, sweet and juicy inside. It was hot and they had to take care not to burn their mouths.

  “What’s it like in the Deep World?” asked Cabbage. “What’s the sky like if there aren’t any stars?”

  Perry took another big bite of rabbit and chewed slowly, thinking. Flaxfield grinned at him.

  “Oh, you have to ask a different question,” said the wizard. “Roffles don’t tell anyone what it’s like down there. Or, if they do tell you, it’s never true, is it Perry?”

  They waited for him to finish chewing.

  “I’m not supposed to,” he said. “But Cabbage is my friend. I don’t want to tell him stories.”

  Flaxfield gave them some boiled roots and leaves.

  “Make sure you eat these. And there are apples for afterwards.”

  “What shall I tell him?” asked Perry.

  Flaxfield put a gentle hand on Perry’s arm. “You’ll have to work that out for yourself.”

  “I’ve never had a friend before,” said Perry.

  “That makes it harder for you, then,” said Flaxfield. “Now, sooner or later we need to find out what’s going on. And to do that we’ll have to try a little magic and see what happens.”

  He tore the last of the meat from a rabbit bone with his teeth, threw the bone into the fire, wiped his fingers on the grass and said, “Right, shall we do something very dangerous, or shall we go to sleep and hope for the best?” |

  Perry and Cabbage sat to one side

  of the fire while Flaxfield prepared for the test. Cabbage explained a little about magic.

  “It’s not a game,” he said. “And it’s never there just to make things easier.

  “What’s the point of it if it doesn’t make things easier?” asked Perry.

  Cabbage frowned. This was the difficult part. It was so difficult he didn’t really understand it himself, so it was going to be tricky trying to get Perry to get the hang of it.

  “It does make things easier, but that isn’t the point of it.”

  “Well, what is the point of magic?”

  An owl flew silently past then, swooping in the darkness and rising up, a vole twisting in its talons.

  Flaxfield sat down next to them.

  “We’re ready,” he said. “But perhaps you should finish telling Perry first. It will help if he knows at least a little bit about magic.”

  Cabbage had the feeling that the wizard was teasing him.

  “I’m stuck,” he said.

  “What is the point of magic?” asked Perry.

  The wizard laced his long fingers together and rested his hands on his knees.

  “We’re going to harvest,” he said. “It’s hard work. Back-aching, arm-aching, throat-drying work. With the sun hot on the back of your neck and the dust from the fields in your face.”

  Perry moved closer, listening carefully.

  “Now, young Cabbage here, he doesn’t like hard work very much.”

  Cabbage scowled.

  “Cabbage would like it if I could weave a little harvest magic, so that the crops cut themselves and jumped up into the farm carts. He’d like a spell to winnow the grain from the chaff and tie up the stalks and bag up the wheat. That’s what Cabbage would like.

  “I’d like that,” said Perry. Cabbage gave his friend a small, grateful punch on his arm.

  “Could you do that?” asked Perry.

  Flaxfield nodded.

  “I could. Or something like it. And if I did, the village would die.”

  “Would the magic kill the village?” asked Perry.

  Flaxfield stood up.

  “Wait until harvest,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you, perhaps. Come on. Magic. We need to get a long way from the fire, I think. Over there, by the river.”

  The air was cooler in the dip. The river grumbled over round stones. Cabbage picked up a frog.

  �
��No,” said Flaxfield. “No creatures, Cabbage. If anything gets hurt it should just be us. We’ve chosen.”

  Perry studied the wizard. He seemed tall to the roffle, all men do. His staff seldom left his hand, as though it was part of him. He did not so much lean on it as put it on the ground to balance himself. Without it, he would have looked as odd as a man standing on one leg.

  “I think we should stand a little apart from one another,” he suggested. “That way, if lightning strikes it will hit only one of us.”

  The boys backed away.

  “And not under that tree,” he added.

  Perry moved to his left.

  “That should do it. Now, have you noticed any wild magic since the innkeeper died?”

  “No.”

  “No. But two sudden flashes of it together, the memmont and the beer, and that little moment with the key just as we left home.”

  He sighed.

  “I think,” he said, “that the wild magic isn’t coming at us from outside. I think it just uses any magic it can get its hands on.”

  “What shall we do?” asked Cabbage.

  “We’ll make some magic,” said Flaxfield. “Just a little bit. As a test.”

  Cabbage looked at the stars again. He strained to listen to them. The same, strange silence.

  “Perhaps a small spell to put the fire out,” said Flaxfield.

  He pointed his staff towards the fire.

  A few last flames licked up over the orange embers. He spoke to the fire, telling it to go to sleep. Perry felt the effect of his voice, though it was soft, almost too soft to hear.

  The flames stuttered. The embers lost their deep glow. The fire sighed, died. Then it burst out, twice the size. It reared up, like a snake, slithered across the grass towards them.

  Flaxfield lowered his staff and shouted a command. The fire twisted, slid away; with a flick it came on again. It swerved round the wizard, rose up and struck its fangs into Perry’s leg.

  He screamed.

  It wound itself round his leg. His clothes flamed out. Flaxfield shouted again. The fire-snake drew its head back, bared its fangs at Flaxfield, black eyes bright in the glow from its own fire, then turned back and sank the fangs again into Perry. The young roffle’s shrieks flew out like bats.

  Cabbage hurled himself at Perry. He threw his arms around him and ran him off his feet. The flames slobbered over them both. The force of his charge carried them off the riverbank and into the water. They hit the surface, sank, dashed against the rocks, then emerged, spluttering, soaked, but the fire extinguished. A serpentine line of ash floated away on the surface, spread and vanished.