William Nicholson - The Wind on Fire Trilogy - Firesong

Praise for FIRESONG

‘The warmth of feeling and touches of comedy make the trilogy a triumph’

The Times

‘Powerful imaginative energy and emotional force’

Sunday Times

‘A gripping narrative and a questing intelligence’

Daily Telegraph

‘Nicholson’s achievement is worthy of acclaim and should mellow into a classic’

The Times

‘Our storytime reading of choice’

Scotsman

Praise for THE WIND SINGER and SLAVES OF THE MASTERY

‘Truly extraordinary’

Daily Telegraph

‘An original and striking read’

Melvin Burgess

‘. . . A gripping read . . . A beautifully narrated, warm thriller of a book, full of inventiveness, action and passion’

Guardian

‘Gloriously cinematic and completely enthralling’

Independent

‘Rich in characters . . . a gripping adventure’

Sunday Times

‘A journey that will leave you breathless’

Bookseller

Books by William Nicholson

The Wind on Fire Trilogy

The Wind Singer

Slaves of the Mastery

Firesong

The Noble Warriors Trilogy

Seeker

Jango

Noman

For older readers

Rich and Mad

First published in Great Britain 2002

This edition published 2011

by Egmont UK Limited

239 Kensington High Street

London W8 6SA

Text copyright © 2002 William Nicholson

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

ISBN 978 1 4052 3971 4

eISBN 978 1 7803 1212 5

www.egmont.co.uk www.williamnicholson.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Cover

Title page

Copyright First published in Great Britain 2002 This edition published 2011 by Egmont UK Limited 239 Kensington High Street London W8 6SA Text copyright © 2002 William Nicholson The moral rights of the author have been asserted ISBN 978 1 4052 3971 4 eISBN 978 1 7803 1212 5 www.egmont.co.uk www.williamnicholson.co.uk A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Prologue: Bounce on, Jumper

1 The view from the sourgum tree

2 Drunkenness

3 Sisi’s kiss

4 Walking the storm

5 The winner chooses a bride

6 Farewell to childhood

7 The dying of the last fire

8 Fatness is happiness

9 Talking with pigs

10 Captain Canobius’s feast

11 Winter dawn

12 All my loves

13 The egg’s song

14 Pinto grows up

15 Bowman flies

16 Ira sees the future

17 The meeting place

18 Into the beautiful land

19 The wind on fire

Epilogue: A betrothal

About the Author

Praise for FIRESONG Praise for FIRESONG ‘The warmth of feeling and touches of comedy make the trilogy a triumph’ The Times ‘Powerful imaginative energy and emotional force’ Sunday Times ‘A gripping narrative and a questing intelligence’ Daily Telegraph ‘Nicholson’s achievement is worthy of acclaim and should mellow into a classic’ The Times ‘Our storytime reading of choice’ Scotsman Praise for THE WIND SINGER and SLAVES OF THE MASTERY ‘Truly extraordinary’ Daily Telegraph ‘An original and striking read’ Melvin Burgess ‘. . . A gripping read . . . A beautifully narrated, warm thriller of a book, full of inventiveness, action and passion’ Guardian ‘Gloriously cinematic and completely enthralling’ Independent ‘Rich in characters . . . a gripping adventure’ Sunday Times ‘A journey that will leave you breathless’ Bookseller

Books by William Nicholson Books by William Nicholson The Wind on Fire Trilogy The Wind Singer Slaves of the Mastery Firesong The Noble Warriors Trilogy Seeker Jango Noman For older readers Rich and Mad

About the Publisher

Albard lay undiscovered among the ruins for three days and nights. All this time he remained in a half sleep, a waking dream, too weak to move or call out. He saw the sun pass overhead, and then the stars. He grew cold, and colder. The flesh dwindled on his great body as he starved. He knew he was dying, and knew there was nothing he could do now to save himself; nor did he wish to. He was only puzzled that it was taking so long, and a little afraid about what would happen in that mysterious final moment when the dying, which is after all a kind of living, came to an end. So at last he composed his mind and prepared himself to sing the song all Singer people sing at the end, for the release of their spirit. Unlike most of the Singer people’s songs, this one had words. Albard’s lips did not move. No sound came from him. But in his mind, he sang:

Joy of my days, let me go

Days of my life, let me go

Life of my heart, let me go

Let me go, let me go, far away . . .

His own voice sounded sweet to him, and peaceful, and he thought he would sleep soon. The pain was all gone, and the ruined city around him was silent. He had no idea what time of day it was any more, or what time of year. It was for him the end time.

Heart of my life, let me go

Life of my days, let me go

Days of my joy, let me go

Let me go, let me go, far away . . .

Then as the song came ever fainter in his fading mind, he heard a new sound: the sound of footsteps approaching. They came in bursts, as if this unseen visitor was hopping and stopping, hopping and stopping. Through the fog of his own dying Albard heard a voice, a shrill chirpy voice that talked to itself.

‘Bounce on, Jumper!’ the voice said.

Leave me alone , said Albard in his mind. Leave me to die .

But it was no use. The newcomer couldn’t hear him, and would have paid no attention even if he had. He was getting closer. Any moment now he would stumble right onto Albard’s body.

‘He’s here somewhere, and I’m here, so when his here meets my here, I’ll find him. Bounce on, Jumper!’

No ! cried Albard, deep within his fading mind. Not him! Not the jolly one! Now, death, now! Come quickly !

It was too late. Though his body was cold and his eyes long closed, stubborn life lingered in his core: and so the one who called himself Jumper found him, and cried out in joy.

‘Oh happy day! Albard! My dear companion, I have found you!’