The Last of the Firedrakes Read online

  “Which are?” I asked, looking at my uncle, who remained quiet.

  “I am sure your uncle will explain it to you,” Ms. Holden said.

  It was strange; my uncle hadn’t mentioned anything last night at dinner. I decided I would ask him later. And I wasn’t too disappointed; after all, missing so many days of school would be great. And that meant I would be away from all the pointing and whispering, which had been happening since the whole school heard about my incident with Alex Carrington.

  Ms. Holden and my uncle stood up and shook hands.

  “Thank you,” said Uncle Christopher to my headmistress. “You have been most helpful. I will have her back in a few days.”

  He walked across the room and opened the door. “Come on, Aurora, we have a busy day ahead,” he said, exiting the principal’s gloomy office.

  I remained silent, gathered my things, and followed my uncle out of the school. I had no idea what was going on, but I was sure I was going to find out soon enough.

  2

  Redstone Manor

  As soon as we got home, I packed my meager belongings—a few jeans and T-shirts, an old tracksuit of Cornelia’s, a pair of pajamas, and my toothbrush—in an old duffel bag that Aunt Arianna had found for me from the attic. It was splitting at the seams and the handle was torn, but somehow I managed to lug it down the stairs and out onto the street.

  My uncle had explained that we were all going on a trip. He and the family had been invited to his boss’s country house for a few days, and Uncle Christopher insisted that we leave immediately.

  This was why I was pulled out of school? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until the holidays? And how come they were taking me with them?

  The last time they went away, Aunt Arianna left me with Mrs. Haversham, who lived across the street. She had two uncontrollable little children, and, in way of payment for my room and food, I had to babysit the little devils. It wasn’t that I didn’t like children, but seven-year-old twin boys were a bit more than I could handle.

  A big black Range Rover was parked outside the house. Uncle Christopher was sitting in the front passenger seat, and a chauffeur in a hat got out and opened the door for me to get in. I handed the chauffeur my luggage and got into the roomy back seat, where Aunt Arianna and Cornelia were waiting.

  We drove at a leisurely pace at first, due to the traffic while leaving the city. But within half an hour I could see Windsor Castle rising up in the distance above the treetops, and soon we were in the countryside. Uncle Christopher had said it was going to be a long journey, so I closed my eyes and decided to nap.

  * * *

  When I woke up with a crick in my neck, we were driving past meadows and farms and acres of woods. I had no idea which part of the country we were in. It had suddenly become colder, and there was a nip in the air. Although it was spring, the weather was temperamental. I looked out at the trees whizzing past and shivered a little as I pulled my favorite brown leather jacket closer around me.

  It was a cold and gloomy spring evening. As we finally neared our destination, a light mist rolled around our car as if searching for a way to get in. I peered out of the backseat window. No house in sight! Not that you could see much with twilight just setting in.

  We must have been traveling for hours, and I was exhausted.

  “Another few minutes and you will be able to see the house,” said Uncle Christopher chirpily, as if the long journey hadn’t affected him in the least.

  Cornelia didn’t even bother to look up; she just huffed and continued texting away on her new iPhone.

  When the house finally came into view, I was taken aback. For the first time, I had to admit that Uncle Christopher was right to get so excited. The “house,” as my uncle called it, was not just a house—it was a massive, centuries-old structure called Redstone Manor.

  As we drove through the gargantuan iron gates and up the long gravel driveway lined with old spruces and ancient oak trees, Uncle Christopher chattered on in his irritating nasal voice.

  “Redstone Manor was built three hundred years ago, and it has been in my boss’s family ever since,” he said proudly, as if he had something to do with it.

  It was a huge pile of high walls, turrets, massive pointed gables, and pinnacles with ornate chimney stacks. It looked more like a mini castle than a house. Ivy and creepers climbed the walls, and massive arched windows embellished with decorative panels lined the sprawling structure. It was absolutely enchanting.

  “Welcome to Redstone Manor,” said my uncle.

  As we drove up to the massive front door of the house, I was excited. I had never been inside a real English manor house before, and I was looking forward to exploring the property.

  A thin, stern-looking lady with spectacles and a severe white bun was standing at the top of the steps to greet us. She introduced herself as the housekeeper, Mrs. Pitts. Standing to her right was a portly man, smartly dressed, with his shoes polished to perfection. He was Mr. Martins, the butler.

  “Welcome to Redstone Manor, Mr. Darlington,” he said.

  “Yes, yes, glad to be here,” said Christopher, puffing out his chest. He was obviously feeling very important right about now. I wondered what his boss was like. His house was nice, that’s for sure.

  Uncle Christopher cleared his throat. “When will I be able to meet Lord Oblek?” he asked.

  “His Lordship was delayed. He will meet with you tomorrow when he returns,” said Mr. Martins.

  “Follow me and I will show you to your rooms,” said Mrs. Pitts crisply. “I will have some food brought up to you, as you must be tired from your long journey. The footmen will take your luggage up to your rooms.”

  My uncle and aunt nodded and beamed as if they were walking into Buckingham Palace. We followed the housekeeper up the broad stone steps and into the massive house.

  The great arched wooden doors opened into a massive foyer, which had a grand staircase that led to the upper floors. Statues and huge paintings lined the walls of the mahogany-paneled corridors, but I hardly noticed. I just fiddled with my medallion and followed Mrs. Pitts, my mind on other things.

  I couldn’t understand what we were doing here. Uncle Christopher worked at a bank. Did he really work for the person who owned this house? And why did the butler refer to this Oblek guy as His Lordship? Was he a lord? An earl? A duke? It was all very strange. How would my uncle know a lord of the realm?

  Mrs. Pitts showed me to my room and left me to unpack and freshen up. Cornelia and I had a whole suite of rooms, with two bedrooms and a large comfortable living room.

  My bedroom was beautifully decorated with green-and-pink flowered wallpaper and matching curtains. Cornelia’s room, which was even bigger than mine, adjoined the living room on the other side, opposite my room. I didn’t want her presence to spoil my experience here. I had already decided that I was going to make the most of this place. I liked history and being in a house this old made me very curious to explore.

  I wandered around the room and sat on the edge of my bed. I wished for the thousandth time that my life were different, that somehow my adoptive parents hadn’t died in the car crash. I even wondered occasionally what my life would have been like if my birth parents hadn’t given me up. Definitely better than this, I was sure. But it was no use wondering; it was not going to bring anybody back.

  There was a tray laid out in the living room, so I had a little of the tomato soup and two of the chicken sandwiches, which were very good.

  I left my mobile phone on the bed and went for a shower. We had been traveling in the car for most of the day, and I was tired. I couldn’t sleep, however, without reading for a while, so I decided to go and look for a book after dinner. Surely a house this large and old had a library.

  After I had my bath and changed into my pajamas I put on my pink fleece dressing gown and resolved to wander around the house.

  I walked quickly down the long corridors of the massive manor house, occasionall
y passing white-capped maids in uniform shuffling busily out of rooms, arms laden with linens or clothes. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, and the corridor ahead was illuminated by a spectral white sheen. Finally I stopped one of the maids and asked for directions. I was pointed towards another, darker wing of the house.

  It was eerie in the east wing, and cobwebs hung in the corners of the shadowy corridors. I tried a few doors and found myself in various stuffy rooms with white dust covers that obscured the furniture. This part of the house looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a long time, and the rooms smelled musty and unused.

  I nearly gave up my search when finally I came across huge wooden double doors at the end of the corridor. I pushed the heavy door open slightly and peered inside.

  This was it, the library. Great, finally! Now if only I could find a good book.

  The beautiful, oak-lined library was a remarkable space. It was the only room in this part of the house that looked like it was cleaned every day and pristinely kept. A first-floor gallery ran along one side of the gigantic room, adorned by an intricately crafted, church-like ceiling. Two large leather armchairs were placed on opposite sides of a small round mahogany reading table, and the wooden floor was covered with plush Persian rugs. Along one wall, two immense bay windows, both hosting a comfortable cushion-covered window seat, overlooked the vast manicured gardens of Redstone Manor.

  Perfect for reading.

  As I walked further into the gigantic library, I looked over to the wall at the very end of the room and was immediately mesmerized. The entire wall at the far end was covered with a huge tapestry that dominated the whole space. It was a delicate and elaborate weave, depicting a dark forest surrounding a crystal-clear lake, with a magical castle glistening in the distance.

  Now I was positive that this was my favorite room in the house. I turned back to the bookshelves. Redstone Manor had an excellent collection.

  Where to start? The walls of the enormous room were packed from top to bottom with shelves, filled with a seemingly countless array of books. Some were newly bought, and some looked as though they must have come with the house many centuries ago. This was like a dream come true.

  Just as I found the complete Chronicles of Narnia, I heard someone at the door. I don’t know what came over me, but I panicked and dove behind one of the large leather armchairs. I knew I was not doing anything wrong—just borrowing a book—but I still felt spooked.

  I peered out from behind my hiding place, feeling immensely stupid.

  It was my Uncle Christopher. I tensed. Maybe he had come down to choose a book himself? That seemed like a reasonable explanation. I was about to come out from behind the chair and announce myself when I realized that he wasn’t going towards the books, but towards the tapestry.

  What was he up to?

  My uncle stood unmoving in front of the tapestry and stared at it. I stayed where I was because I had no idea what he was doing and I didn’t want to startle him. He might get angry. I looked over towards the double doors of the library. They were shut, and there was no way I could leave the room without Uncle Christopher noticing.

  So I crouched and waited.

  My uncle was definitely acting very oddly. That was clear when he held out his arms, palms facing outward and touched the tapestry. As he did that I felt a breeze enter the room.

  I turned to the windows, but they were shut. A rustling noise startled me and I looked back towards my uncle. My mouth fell open, as I stared mutely at the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

  The tapestry on the wall was shimmering like moonlight on water, while the rustling noise and the breeze were coming from inside it. I spotted the bushes in the tapestry moving slightly, and sudden, strange ripples started forming in the fabric, expanding from the middle, like when you throw a pebble in a pond. Quite unexpectedly, a big booted leg and an arm came through the tapestry. Slowly, finally, a whole body emerged.

  I had to clap my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from gasping aloud. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A big, bearded, rough-looking man in a battered fur-lined black cloak, with a patch over one eye and a massive sword that swung at his rather large waist, had just stepped out of the tapestry, and into the library of Redstone Manor.

  Everything happened so quickly, I couldn’t even think. I knew I should say something and excuse myself, but then my uncle might think I was spying on him. So I decided to remain where I was for the moment. In fact, I was too fascinated to do anything more than crouch behind the large leather armchair and see what happened next.

  Finally the stranger spoke. “Christopher, do you have the girl?” he said, his voice a deep rumble. He looked mean, with a patch over one eye and numerous scars, which crisscrossed his bearded face.

  For a moment I wondered what had happened to him to disfigure him so. But then my thoughts whirled quickly back to the main question clamoring in my head. How on earth did he appear out of the tapestry? Then more questions whirled through my confused mind. What was on the other side? Who was this man? And what girl were they talking about?

  “Lord Oblek,” said Christopher, bowing slightly to the black-cloaked man. “I have brought her.”

  The rough-looking man called Oblek stared at my uncle, his one good eye widening in expectation. “Is she here, in the house?” he said.

  “Yes,” Christopher replied, quickly stepping back.

  I could tell my uncle was nervous.

  I couldn’t understand who or what they were talking about, but I started to get a really bad feeling that I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Are you sure she’s the right one?” Uncle Christopher asked.

  “Yes, of course I’m sure,” said Oblek, in a condescending tone. “Would I have wasted years of my life searching for her, only to find the wrong girl? Come on, Christopher, you know I am smarter than that. Imagine my delight when I found out she was your niece. Well, your adopted niece anyway.”

  My uncle Christopher nodded and dabbed his perspiring head with a purple handkerchief.

  I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. They were talking about me. Uncle Christopher had no other nieces that I knew of. Why would this strange man be looking for me? This made no sense.

  Oblek grinned and clasped his hands together. “Finally I will deliver the girl to the queen and she will reward me beyond all imagination.”

  “Yes, yes, you can do what you like with her,” smirked Christopher, “but not before you pay me my fee. It has become quite considerable now, seeing as I will have to answer many questions about her when she’s gone.”

  Gone? Where was I going?

  “You’ll get your money,” said the wily Oblek. “But only after I have the girl in my possession. When is the earliest you can get her to me?”

  “Arianna will bring her down here at midnight,” said Christopher.

  I wasn’t surprised to learn that Aunt Arianna was involved in this. She wanted to get rid of me ever since I moved in with her, but I thought Uncle Christopher liked me. I couldn’t believe how wrong I was. There was absolutely no one I could trust.

  Suddenly my foot cramped. I gasped, clutched at it, and started rubbing, but I had to change my position. I moved ever so slowly, adjusting myself behind the armchair, but it was a futile attempt. My shuffling had created a noise, and I knew I had been heard.

  “Someone’s here,” said Oblek, whirling round, his hand on the hilt of his massive sword.

  I moved backwards, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped.

  Christopher came over quickly, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up from my crouching position.

  “Don’t you know that it’s bad manners to eavesdrop, young lady?” said my uncle, angrily. His floppy gold hair was a mess; he was fuming, and his glasses were steaming up.

  “What have we here?” asked Lord Oblek, his one beady, black eye fixating on me with a scrutinizing glare as he walked slowly towards me.

  “It’s the girl you
have been searching for, my lord,” said Uncle Christopher, with a slimy smile on his reddened face. He pulled me along towards Oblek, clutching my arm with his bony fingers, which bit into my skin like needles.

  “Hey, that hurts,” I said, trying to pull my arm free from his grasp, but he didn’t let go.

  “So, it seems your work has been done for you, Christopher. She has been delivered to us of her own accord,” said Oblek, his arms crossed across his chest.

  “I’m not a package to be delivered anywhere,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have the wrong girl. I don’t even know you.”

  “Ah, but I know you, Aurora Firedrake,” said Oblek.

  “What nonsense. That’s not even my name. I’m Aurora Darlington,” I insisted. “I told you, you have the wrong girl.”

  Lord Oblek ignored me and spoke to my uncle. “She has a strong likeness to her father—the same dark hair and green eyes of the Firedrakes. She is definitely the one. I don’t know how she stayed hidden all these years, but she is Azaren’s only child. I am sure of it.”

  My mind reeled with the implications of this revelation. I longed to know who my real parents were, and this person here seemed to know them, however dangerous he looked.

  “Let go of my arm,” I said to Christopher, trying to twist out of his vise-like grip.

  He just laughed at me and held on tighter, so I punched him in the stomach, and he released me, momentarily stunned as he bent over. I took my chance and made a dash for the door, but my uncle recovered quickly, caught me again and slapped me across my face. My neck whipped to one side with the force of the blow. I had lost my chance, and Uncle Christopher dragged me back to Oblek, who stood watching all this calmly.

  “Interesting!” said Oblek, coming closer to me and staring me down. “A feisty little thing, isn’t she? I must get her to the queen immediately; there is no time to waste.”

  What queen? What the hell was this guy going on about? Why was he after me? And where did he want to take me?