The Last Dragon Chronicles: The Fire Ascending by Chris D'Lacey Page B

the vastness of the universe as a
    great sheet of energy. A limitless field of interconnected forces from which I could
    draw down any information I required and shape it into any form I liked: instantly.
    I heard Guinevere gasp. When I opened my eyes, there was the bush, just as I’d imagined it. I had created a construct, straight out of my mind. The bear blinked twice, then with a grunt sat down to graze the berries.
    And that surprised Guinevere even
    more. “He’s swallowing them.”

Wasn’t that the point? To make himfeed? “I hope they don’t poison him.” Ihad given little thought to the type ofberry, still less to what they might tastelike.
    “But that means the bush is not an
    illusion. It’s real. You   grew   something, out of the Earth. Not even Gwilanna can
    imagineer like that.”
    I looked back at the caves. The sibyl was still there, studying me carefully.
    “What do you know about Gwilanna’s mother?”
    “Her mother?”
    “Or the skull she keeps by the fire?”
    Guinevere   lifted   her   shoulders.
    “Gwilanna doesn’t talk about her mother
    much, though I’ve heard her mumbling to

    the skull at night. All I really know is her
    name: Grella.”
    My heart thumped, making the dragonskrike. Could this be   true   ? That the tornaqhad moved me through time and space butkept me in touch with a strand of my past?
    Gwilanna is Hilde’s child   , said the
    Fain.
    The child Grella took from Mount
    Kasgerden.
    A daughter fashioned by Voss – and the
    Ix.
    Saying nothing of this, I followed
    Guinevere back to the cave mouth. The
    Fain, having put their all into theconstruct, were too exhausted to commentfurther. But as we approached the sibylagain, she clapped her hands in silence

    and said, “Very impressive – for a boy who’s never imagineered before.” She rolled back Gideon’s eyelid. In the centre of his eye was a vital glint. “Take it to the spring,” she said to Guinevere. “Give it water. The bird will recover. When it
    does, let it go. Then return here.”
    “Wouldn’t it be safer inside the cave?”
    “Birds do not like caves,” said Gwilanna. “Dragons, of course, are a different matter… ”
    Her eyes grew large as they took in
    Gawain.
    Guinevere sighed and started up thehill. “Look after him,” she whispered,touching my arm.
    “And don’t forget the milk this time!”
    “I won’t.”

    The sibyl turned her gaze on me. “Whatare you gawping at, boy?”
    Her dress. It was soiled by years ofaccumulated dirt but I was certain now
    that it was not the clothing of a humble cave dweller. The garment had been made by a hand skilled in needlework. I thought back to her reaction on hearing my name and knew there was no point dancing round the truth. With a surge of boldness, I lifted my chin. “I know who you are. You were raised by Grella of Taan.”
    And just as audaciously the sibyl countered, “And you, if I’m not mistaken, are the boy who disappeared after a fall from  Mount  Kasgerden.   My  mother always spoke so fondly of you,   Agawin   .”
    So she knew. And she truly believed

    that Grella was her mother, a falsehood invented by Grella, perhaps, to make the upbringing easier. But did she know what part Voss had played in her birth, or of the evil that lurked inside her?
    Leaning forward she sneered, “Whatare you, boy? A construct? A spirit? Orsome other wonder?”
    I did not have to answer that. Gawain
    threw out his wings and went   hrrr!   in her
    face.
    A gobbet of spittle landed on her cheekand fizzed along one of her manywrinkles. “Little monster!” she squealed,pulling back. She rubbed her face dry andswept towards the cave. “Bring thatinside. Put it by the fire. When the sungoes down it will need more warmth than

    you   can give it.”
    I looked down at Gawain. He was
    indeed shivering. But it would not be long before his scales began to show, before he would get the insulation he