Fire: The Book of Fire Trilogy, #1

By David Dawson

The first book in "The Book of Fire Trilogy", a middle grade fantasy novel for ages 9 and up.

A planet populated by enchanters.
A magical book.
A cabal of shadow beings.
An assassin that turns people to stone.

Welcome to the magical world of Cressida Widdershins...

Books 2 and 3 are already out, as well as a special bookset that contains the trilogy as well as several exclusive short stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Dawson
• Release date: May 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781507029275

David Dawson

David Dawson is Assistant Professor of Religion at Haverford College.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Sea Tooth

Imagine a world ruled over by a single massive landmass.  Continental drift, earthquakes, and volcano eruptions may have tried to prize the great chunks apart, but they were held back by forces more powerful than Mother Nature herself—-magic forces.  Quite why the land was held together nobody was sure, only that it must have been a spell that no one person had ever attempted since for fear of the repercussions.  The people of the planet Earth lived on one gigantic continent, which they called Pangaea, and that was all that mattered; blissful ignorance.

Of course there were exceptions.  Four thousand years ago the many warring tribes of the Elven race had banded together to break off a huge portion of land and drag it far away from Pangaea.  They were evolving technologically and intellectually faster than the other races, and wanted to be as far away from their influence as possible.  It took a total of two million Elves to move the land, pushing and heaving with their combined magical powers, and the process was so exhausting three quarters of them died.  Yet they deemed the mass continental migration worth the price.  They were isolated now, with only themselves to worry about.

So the humans developed much like they did on other alternative Earths.  They built the pyramids, went through an industrial revolution and invented reality television.  What with being one nation they had one religion, that of the Sun Goddess Rafreya.  99 per-cent of the population were born with the ability to perform magic.  They were more commonly known as enchanters.  Televisions, microwaves and satellites were powered by magic, not by batteries and electricity.  Their most famous celebrities are the Elven royal family and a talentless magician who went on Magic Idol, and now is making millions from writing books about how wonderful he is. 

In a county roughly where England should be, there was a city called Magefield.  It was a city surrounded by green valleys, carpeted with gothic buildings, and smothered with dark storm clouds for most of the year.  Yet it was a hub for magic.  It had the most respected magic university in the whole of Pangaea and it was where the Emperor of the continent made his residence.  It was a city of culture and class.

I hate this town, Cressida Widdershins moaned.

Traffic jams are always common in the city center, said Mr. Widdershins.  You just have to get used to them.  Besides, it’s a lovely day!  Just smell that crisp fresh air!

She winded down the car window.  She sniffed up.  All she could smell was a faint trace of magically powered cars.  But even that had an aroma of its own, something unidentifiable but unmistakable.  Today she thought it was stronger than normal, maybe because of the large amount of traffic.  It was Snow Day, after all.

Snow Day was a holiday celebrated once a year at the height of winter to commemorate the day, fourteen thousand years ago, when the ice serpent, Frostma, froze the world.  Colossal glaciers of ice consumed half the planet, killing trees, plants, and many forms of life in the process.  Some things were made extinct forever; others used magic to save their lives.  In the end, Frostma could only be banished to another dimension; she was so powerful.  So they celebrated her defeat, ever mindful of what she’d wrought and could again.

Cressida was eleven years old, a normal magic-free human, or the misbegotten one per-cent as more cruel enchanters mockingly referred them to.  She had conspicuous white hair done up in a ponytail and silver eyes like small balls of mercury.  Today she had on her favorite blue skirt, the kind she wore only when she went to the temple of Rafreya on Snow Day.  She enjoyed Snow Day.  The temple was a hub of activity; children playing games; enchanters creating images of Frostma that writhed around in the sky; tables of food, including her favorite, iced blue buns; and songs.  She couldn’t sing.  Her singing voice was rusty and embarrassing but she joined in nevertheless because Snow Day was a day to rejoice in being alive; and she also got the day off from school.

Cressida would never describe herself as an academic.  She was an average student who didn’t really gel with any subject.  Her teachers would tell her that she could improve her grades if only she applied herself more, but the fact of the matter was that Cressida knew she wasn’t that smart.  Her mother was an applied magic teacher at her school and her father was an archaeologist who had written twenty books.  She was sure they were ashamed of her, but there was nothing she could do about it.  She found all of her school subjects difficult and extremely boring.  So this rare day off from school was something of a boon for her. 

I read in one of my archaeology journals that they have a dragalodon at the Blueoak Museum, said her father, Doctor Shanks Widdershins, the designated driver.  Ginger Widdershins was in the passenger seat, head hunched over a pile of papers.  Cressida was disappointed to see she was taking the time during the traffic jam to mark homework.

What’s a dragalodon? Cressida inquired.  She fiddled idly with the Sun symbol necklace she wore.  It was emblazoned with a stylish R.  It had been presented to her, like all the people of Pangaea, at her fifth birthday.  It represented her growth as a child and the love she had for the Goddess.

It’s a prehistoric dragon, he said.  It seems mighty interesting.  Be sure to look at it tomorrow.

Cressida was confused.  Why would I be going to the museum tomorrow?

Oh!  I must have forgotten to tell you!  He laughed, feeling absent minded.  Miss Weber called while you were getting dressed.  The school’s closed tomorrow because they’re doing repairs to the roof of the magic building.  Some tiles got blown off during last night’s hurricane.

What hurricane? she asked. 

You slept through it.

Cressida mused for a moment. This dragalodon did sound interesting.

I can’t wait, she said.

Her father grinned as gentle flakes of snow began to simmer from the sky.  He hoped this enthusiasm meant his daughter was finally interested in something.  He hated to see the way she just didn’t care about anything.  He knew she wasn’t a smart kid when it came to things like math or Pangaean, but he knew there was something out there she was good at.  Something that really made her think, I love this.  Maybe this dragalodon would lead to that something.

The next morning Cressida met her friend, Joe, in the school parking lot, which was buried in almost an inch of snow, to take them to the museum.  She was immensely excited.  This dragalodon was an unknown thing in her life, a mystery, so it was something she was looking forward to seeing.  A prehistoric sea dragon, she thought.  How thrilling!

She and Joe were best friends.  Unlike herself he could perform magic but wasn’t very good at it.  He had once turned his shaggy mop of curly brown hair into sludge, despite the fact he was actually reading about the history of magic in the dark ages at the time.  To say he was hopeless would be cruel, so Cressida teased him that he was hopeless as often as she could.  She didn’t mean it, of course; most of the time anyway.

Cressida rummaged in her backpack, finding the bag of jelly babes she’d hid there earlier.  She pulled the bag of sweets out and offered Joe one.  He loved jelly babes.  He’d made himself sick often enough gorging on them.  She had received a whole box full of them for Snow Day and had spent an hour last night sharing them all out into various bags, some to save for later, and some to eat now, some to give to Joe.  When the two of them set forth on an adventure, they would chew jelly babes as they trekked or waded or foraged.

Do you have any blackcurrant flavors? Joe asked.

Cressida looked through the packet.  They’ve all gone.

Joe sighed.  Oh.  I think there might be a spell to change the flavor of something.  I’m sure I can remember it.

He recited the spell to the best of his ability.  The jelly babe he had in his hands changed into a fly and exploded.

I did it right! Joe complained.

Cressida stifled a laugh.  Of course you did.

What do you know about this dragalodon? Joe asked.  He was eager to change the subject. 

My father was very enthusiastic about it, said Cressida. I think it might be exciting.  At least it’s another day off school.

Joe chewed a jelly babe thoughtfully.  I’m not sure whether I like museums enough to be excited.  They’re a bit boring.

They don’t have to be boring.

Joe agreed with her.  Cressida could conjure up excitement and adventure from the dullest of things.  He assumed today’s museum visit would be no exception.

The class filed through the tall, imposing museum doors with limited enthusiasm.  Cressida didn’t understand them.  They had a day off from school!  Why would that make them miserable?  Their teacher, Miss Weber, appeared genuinely hyper, almost tense.  Was taking a group of students out for the day that nerve-wracking? 

In spite of herself, Cressida was impressed.  The foyer of the museum reminded her of the Rafreya temple in the town center only on a much larger scale.  Engraved pillars of stone held up the ceiling, which appeared to stretch up into pure darkness, and all of the walls were hollowed out alcoves with exhibits inside.  The floors were made of marble, black and shiny, and displayed on a plinth in the entrance was a statue of Rafreya herself, resplendent in her flowing robes and hair that crept and twisted around her body.

Welcome to my museum! said Mr. Blueoak with fake enthusiasm.  He didn’t appear to enjoy welcoming them one bit.  Cressida had the very distinct feeling he’d much rather chuck them out and lock the doors.  Enjoy everything this place has to offer.  Hopefully you will all learn many wonderful things today.  If I can help you with anything feel free to ask!

He gave them a greasy look as if to say, Feel free to ask but I’ll just ignore you.  What with his shifty black eyes, pouting lips and pronounced Elf ears he gave them all quite the shivers.  Cressida knew a villain when she saw one, although that may have been down to his brown striped that looked like it’d just been unearthed in a Persian tomb.  She ignored him.  He wasn’t what she’d come to see. 

This place smells weird, Joe whispered in her ear.

I think it’s Mr. Blueoak, not the museum, she whispered back.  There’s just something very shifty about him.

Joe had already fixed his attention onto something else.  In a glass cabinet, just a short distance away, was the mummified remains of a canter-troll.  It had a piggy nose and was as small as a human toddler like all trolls but this one had horns; twisting, pointed horns.  It was quite possibly the ugliest thing Cressida had ever seen.

It looks like the school guard, said Joe, examining the small plaque under the exhibit.  It read ‘The Canter-troll is an extinct offshoot of the troll species.  A Canter-troll was the first to spot and record the progress of The Dragon Comet, which passes by our planet once every 11,000 years."

Oh yeah! she said.  Maybe they’re related.

The museum owner had been talking while they’d been ogling the canter-troll.  He appeared to be talking about forgetting there was a school trip today and it was a tad inconvenient but never mind.  The place did appear to be deserted apart from Cressida’s class, who were all now getting a tad agitated.  Mr. Blueoak appeared to enjoy telling them all how wonderful his museum was instead of showing it to them.

So then...any questions? Mr. Blueoak inquired.  He looked at his watch, which hung from a chain clipped onto a buttonhole.  It was made of wood and the hands were moved by a simple magic spell.  It looked expensive.

We’re really here to see the dragalodon, said Miss Weber candidly, giving the man her best annoyed teacher look.  It should be ever so fascinating.  I know my students and I are very looking forward to viewing it.

I knew there was something important I had to tell you!  I’m afraid the dragalodon exhibit is out of bounds today, Mr. Blueoak explained.  There was a...leak from a water pipe.  It will be open...maybe next week, probably never.

Joe sulked.  But we came to see the...

Next week, Mr. Blueoak interrupted before stalking off.  He peered at them from around a corner, his reflection caught on the glass of a display case, merging his image with that of some ancient old creature.  Cressida stuck her tongue out at him and he walked away.

Well then class it looks like we’ve been given the chance for a completely unobstructed tour of this museum! Miss Weber declared enthusiastically.  Perhaps we could sneak down into the basement where they keep the really interesting and fragile exhibits?

Emily Swine asked, What’s the point of putting all the good stuff in the basement?  Surely the point of a museum is to display things for people to actually see?

Norman Baal dropped a 12,000-year-old Spiked Dragon cup on the floor.  It shattered.

That’s why, said Miss Weber.  She gently pulled a red faced Norman away from his expensive accident, whispering in his ear, If anybody asks it was like that when we got here.

Miss Weber began leading the group, single file, towards an archway with the banner Magical Plankton.  Cressida guessed what that was all about; fancy magical holograms of the first forms of life as they squiggled about doing nothing much for about ten minutes while a voiceover told you how fascinating it all was.

This is going to be a long day, she moaned.

There you can see the fossils of a Neanderthal Elf, said Miss Weber, leading them past a pile of old bones in a glass display.  That was before they gained their use of earth magic and went on to form the great Elverica.  Of course the Elves would have you believe they were never as primitive as this but, the proof is right here for us to see!

Emily wrote down everything the teacher said on a small pink notebook in her hands.  She stared at the Neanderthal Elf as if it was the most mesmerizing thing she had ever seen.  Emily thought it was.  She hoped to become an Elf surgeon when she was older.  She even had an exiled Elf doctor as an