The Book of Fire by Marjorie B. Kellogg

the spring house, where Doritt has stationed them.
    “Just in case,” she says, shoving stout poles into their hands.
    N’Doch uses the pole to brace himself against the wind. He’d prefer his trusty old fish blade that’s gotten him in and out of many a tight scrape. But nothing came back with him through the veil of centuries, nothing but his flesh and bones, in several pieces. Even his clothes were in tatters. He hefts his pole. It’s about two meters long and maybe three centimeters thick. He turns to Sedou. “What d’ya think?”
    Sedou’s grin is veiled with snow. “We can take ’em. Whoever they are.”
    N’Doch levels the staff at him endwise and feints. Sedou counters with the stick held across his chest in both hands. Instantly, N’Doch sees that’s the right way to use it, like, to ward off a blade. Particularly a real long one. It occurs to him that these guys are probably gonna be carrying swords. His anticipation quickens.
    Sedou’s still wearing the same old dashiki and jeans that N’Doch’s song had conjured him in. N’Doch shivers. He can’t remember ever being so cold. Suddenly he feels like it’s him who’s the older brother. “You ought to get some clothes on.”
    “Cold doesn’t affect me.”
    “Well, it looks weird. People might think you’re showing off.”
    “Since when did that bother you?” Sedou raises his staff and takes a stance. “Wanta do something about it?”
    They joust a little among the drifts until N’Doch’s feeling warmed up and breathing hard. He pulls back with a laugh. “Do we have to go to all this trouble? Couldn’t you just, y’know, spit fire at them or something? Instant barbecue?”
    Sedou sobers. “Not me. That’s my brother.”
    For an instant, N’Doch is confused. Then he says, “Oh, that brother. The big guy can do that? No kidding.”
    “I meant the other one.”
    Right. The
other
one. N’Doch recalls it well enough, pounding hell-bent down that long tunnel in Lealé’s mystical house, pursued by a roaring gout of flame, breathing inthe searing heat, sure he was about to be incinerated by a dragon he’d never even met. Come to think of it, his vision of running was a lot like that. His two dragons had gotten all excited when he described his vision to them. Earth made him repeat every detail of the burned-out, ruined landscape.
    Water had asked: Is it a fix?
    Earth had replied: I THINK IT IS .
    “The other one,” N’Doch says now. “I remember. The one we gotta go after.”
    Sedou nods. “And soon. But only when you’re ready. When your body is healed.”
    N’Doch flexes his shoulders, wrinkles his nose to the snow and wind. “Feels pretty good right now.” In fact, too good. The suspicion is growing that he feels not only different but better than he ever did before. “Say, listen, did you guys . . . did you, like, put in any improvements when you worked me over?”
    But the dark man opposite him just smiles back at him blandly, a distinctly un-Sedou smile. N’Doch can see the dragon in his brother’s eyes and knows this question won’t get a straight answer.
    That’s me, all right. Just a poor dumb soldier on R&R, kickin’ back, enjoying myself, while a coupla dragons shape me up for the next big battle.

    Later, he hears the sharp halloo of the dogs escorting the intruders in. But the snow is flying so thick in the gathering dark that the riders are halfway into the farmstead before N’Doch can pick them out. The snow muffles the sounds of their approach, but the alert has already been downgraded. Lily has ridden in ahead to give the okay to light the lanterns and call the watchers in from their posts. One of the riders, at least, is known to her. N’Doch figures it must be this Hal they all talk about. The women have gathered in the yard. Doritt and the twins warm their hands at the flame of a tall torch they’ve uprighted in the snow. N’Doch thinks it looks festive, but he can feel the tension beneath the