Born In Flames (14 page)

“I think I’ll base my decision off of what we find out when we go to the historian. Eve said he would ‘unintentionally’ lead us to a key. And if he can’t help us, then I’ll give up,” I reasoned.
“I think that’s a reasonable idea,” he replied with a forced wink. I ignored the instant spark that shot through me, causing goose bumps to rise up on my skin. “That’s why I called him. I also called the diner and let them know that we’d be out for the next few days due to personal issues. They were very understanding, considering the bus accident.”
I felt the creases of my mouth turning upward as I nodded. Then my eyes moved a little south, betraying my mind that was yelling for them to stop. When I looked up again, his eyes were on my lips. I saw myself kissing him, letting myself go, but turned my head instead.
“That’s why you rock,” I pushed out, hoping my uneven voice didn’t give away my thoughts. “I guess we can go when you’re done with that mug. No use wasting a perfect morning,” I hurriedly added, getting up from the table and walking over to the TV. I fumbled with the remote.
“You okay?” he asked, picking up on my inner struggle. The disappointment was apparent in his voice. This was just one problem I wasn’t ready to sort through.
“Yeah,” I replied, and then I forced myself to turn and look at him. “Just nervous about what we’re going to find out.” I was lying. I hated lying to him. I hated lying period. He watched me, examining my face skeptically. He saw right through my lie, but thankfully let it go as he carried his mug to the sink.
His scent distracted me from where I sat. The delicious, homely smell, caused me to again picture myself grabbing him and kissing the hell out of him. I added, “It should be interesting,” as I moved to the door where my shoes and purse sat.
He stalked over to me and turned my shoes around so I could slide them on. How did he manage to think of half the stuff that went through his brain? Then he stood and was once again face to face with me, in the very spot where “it” had happened. His demeanor was so easy for me to read. I knew he was still thinking about it too. How could he not? We were a constant reminder to each other about what had happened. And the feelings still remained.
I coughed nervously, clearing my throat, then turned to open the door. I ran down the stairs and jumped into the car. My eyes rested straight ahead and noticed someone staring directly at me through their motel window. A small portion of the curtain was peeled open, enough for me to see one eye and half of a nose. The person stared at me for what felt like forever so I made a contorted face and childishly stuck out my tongue. The curtain angrily closed shut.
We both buckled up, and then Fenn pealed out in reverse. “What a weirdo,” I said, miffed. The person’s questioning eye stood out in my mind. It had a glaze to it that was almost unnatural. Where had I seen that before?
“Yeah, he did that when I first came here to look at the motel room. The manager said that he rarely ever leaves this place.” He adjusted the rearview mirror, looking back to our room and then pulled out onto the highway.
“So it’s a he? I couldn’t tell.”
Chapter 16
Fenn’s Awakening
WE PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY of the historian’s, the orbed sun making its way to the middle of the cloudless sky. The grass was sated and lush from the recent storm, and butterflies fed from bloom to bloom. The breeze was steady but low, sweeping my hair off my shoulders as we shut our car doors.
A rugged, old, two-story building built out of coarsely weathered wood sat painted in coral colors. The windows were trimmed in a darker rose color, and the light blue door seemed to fit oddly. The overhang, made of the same battlescarred wood, had all sorts of wind chimes twisting and singing in the quiet morning breeze. A sign on the front door read “Open” so we walked right in.
An old man standing on a polished ladder in the far left corner of the room was busy putting books on a bookshelf. He peered over at us as we entered. Sunrays peeked in through the many windows surrounding the building, emphasizing the dust that glittered off the books as he put them away.
The entire first floor was an open room, filled with bookshelves that looked pretty ancient. They were made of some type of dark wood carved with spirals and vines that whispered stories of fairytales. The scent of aged paper mixed with Pine Sol permeated the air. Classical music played softly, the old man humming along. I was home.
“Welcome to the Public Library,” the old man said. He was wearing khaki pants and a plaid yellow shirt laden with a sweater vest.
“My name is Bob. I’m assuming you’re Fenn and Aurora?” He pointed to each of us as he said our names. “We don’t get many visitors here, the younger crowd these days thinks reading is overrated.” He was smiling to himself like he had told a good joke. How cute and old manlike.
“Yes, sir. I’m Fenn and this is Aurora, and we don’t think reading is overrated,” Fenn replied, shaking his hand a little too enthusiastically. He was a sucker for old people. “In fact, Rory here reads as often as the sun rises.”
Bob climbed down the ladder and handed a couple of books to Fenn with a thump. “Well, I understand that you two want to learn the mythological history of dragons.” He kept talking as he walked to the back of the room, leaving us to sum up that he wanted us to follow him. Fenn walked quickly ahead, reaching his arm back so I could grab hold of his hand.
“He seems nice,” I whispered to Fenn.
“Yeah, I think he is. I really liked him over the phone.” He pulled me to walk in front of him and put his hand on the small of my back. The smarter part of me knew that I should keep him from doing that because it only made things more complicated. But my heart wasn’t quite strong enough to make him stop.
We walked through a door that was in the very back of the main room and entered what I guessed was a parlor of sorts, striped in green and white. A few different couches and chairs created a pleasant atmosphere to kick back and read in. I could see myself coming here and relaxing quite often.
“Well,” said Bob pausing for the first time and tipping his glasses down on his nose to get a better view of us, “take a seat. I’ve pulled a couple books for reference, in case I find myself missing a piece. This isn’t a popular subject around here, but it’s one that I myself have put a lot of research into. I’ve always held a keen fascination for all things fantasy.”
Come on Eve, please be right
, I thought with a glint of hope.
Fenn laid the books Bob had handed him on the table where we sat. Bob sat down in a loveseat in front of us, crossed his legs, and then took a deep breath.
“Where to begin,” he said, tapping his finger to his chin. He looked up. “The beginning would be best, I suppose. I tried to stay local with the lore-keep things interesting. Did you know that we actually have lore on this island concerning dragons?”
We shook our heads as he changed his glasses, pulling a reading pair out of the pocket on his sweater vest. He had a Star Trek communicator pin fastened to the pocket. I tried to refrain from giggling. Bob grabbed one of the books off the coffee table that sat in between us.
He cleared his throat. “Now, are you two aware of the ruins on the Eastern side of the island?”
“Somewhat,” Fenn answered for both of us.
“Those ruins were actually once a place of worship, back before the settlers came. The Shaman who led the founding tribe passed down stories about another realm of time.” He smiled blissfully.
I leaned forward, biting my lip to hide my smile. If he only knew.
“The Shaman held awakenings in a cave not too far from the ruins. It was a religious practice performed the night before the tribes would harvest their crops. Legend has it that one night, while the Shaman held an awakening inside the cave, he witnessed a phenomenon.” He shifted in his seat, excitement gushing from his words. “An unusual man appeared from out of thin air, right inside the cave.”
I blinked. “A man?”
“The Shaman wrote that this man spoke of a realm full of magic and hope.”
“What happened?” Fenn asked Bob.
Bob smiled. “The Shaman took this man into his tribe and offered him shelter. In return, the man shared his insight. He claimed to be a god from the other realm.”
“A god?” I blurted out.
Bob chuckled. “You see, the man claimed that in his realm he had four other brothers. They were known as The Fates. This man-the fifth brother-broke a law. He created a new race, dragons, without the consent of his brothers.”
Fenn stiffened, slowly sliding his hand in mine. Eve had talked about The Fates. I squeezed Fenn’s hand.
“And the Shaman believed all of this?” I asked, dazed.
“It is written here, in this journal,” he informed, tilting the journal in my direction. “It was deciphered by our college as a part of our island’s history. The Shaman wrote that this man was someone he could trust”
“If he was trustworthy, then why would he leave his realm after breaking a law?” Fenn asked, confused.
“Because the other four Fates didn’t approve of the creation of the dragon. They looked at it as an abomination. And since they had no punishments set for this unimaginable crime, they attempted to terminate the entire race.”
I gasped, covering my mouth.
“But the fifth brother knew something the others didn’t,” Bob continued, deep into his story. “He saw something coming-a grim future. He told the Shaman that he believed one day, a spawn from his creation would save our two realms from the destruction he foresaw in a vision. A savior.”
Bob’s words drifted away as I stared absently out of the window, my mind spinning. I felt shaky and a little nauseous as my thoughts touched on Mr. Creepy’s prophecy. Of dragon born a conqueror prevails. Am I the savior-the conqueror?
Fenn coughed, nudging me.
“…this was why the man, as you inquired Fenn, fled his realm,” Bob kept on. “He told the Shaman it was to ensure that the savior would be created. If he stayed, his brothers would’ve eliminated the race of the dragon. To prevent this, as penance for his crime, he put his immortality into a special stone and laid it deep inside a volcano. He left it there, in the other realm, and asked the Dragon King to protect it. He then crossed over here and lived out his days as a mortal.”
My heart accelerated. I understood why I needed to visit this historian now. He might not know
who
he was talking to, but he certainly knew a lot.
“What did the brothers do after that? Did they destroy the dragons?” Fenn asked, taking the words from my mouth.
Bob’s brows lifted as he shrugged in uncertainty. “No one knows. Alas, the journal is incomplete. It ends shortly after the man died and the Shaman disappeared.” He looked up from the book with a sad smile and then closed it, placing his palm lovingly on the cover.
“What did the Natives do after that? After the Shaman left?” I asked, thirsting for more.
“They created an altar inside the ruins, worshipping the Fate who sacrificed his immortality for the fate of our two realms.”
Zordon’s face came to mind then. I briefly remembered Lady Eve mentioning something about a stone that Zordon was after. My mind buzzed with information. Was the stone the Fate poured his soul into the same stone Zordon was after?
“I was told that you have an ancient map that you’d like me to look at?” Bob asked. I stared at him for a moment, trying to make out what he had just said.
“Show him the map, Rory,” Fenn muttered under his breath.
“Oh! The map, here,” I rushed as I pulled it out of my bag and unfolded it, laying it down on the table for Bob to see.
“Ahh, this is quite old,” he commented, tilting his glasses down and leaning in. He compared it to the pages of the leather book, brows furrowing as he tried to make out the picture. “It’s a hand-drawn layout of our island, similar to this one,” he explained, pointing to a map in the journal.
He leaned down until he was almost nose to nose with the map, then said, “Actually, your map looks like a treasure map. There are focal points on here, but the hand that drew it was unsteady, it’s hard to tell. There is however, a heavy emphasis on the ruins. You see how it takes up more space than needed on the map? Maybe something is there. Who gave this to you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. I wasn’t sure how much I should give away. I shrugged.
“Hmm,” he pondered. “Well, I can’t really help you in this department. My knowledge only goes as far as what I’ve shared. If this were mine though, I would definitely investigate the ruins. There is an island tour, the group travels to the altar and the cave. You never know what you may find.” His gaze filled with yearning as he looked down at the map.
I snatched up the map and put it back in my bag. “So other than recognizing the ruins, it’s unreadable?” I pointed out, trying to deter him from wanting the map.
“Precisely,” Bob replied, disheartened. I leaned in again to glance at his map that was drawn up by the Shaman and was caught off guard by his excitement. “Is that a Lapis?” he asked, grabbing my hand and holding up my middle finger. The ring had obviously sparked his curiosity.
“Lapis? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to gently pull my hand back, but he brought it closer to him. From his pocket, he pulled out a small magnifying glass, similar to one that a jeweler would use. Who carried those things around?
“It’s a type of stone. That ring you have on,” he gestured with his eyes, “it is set with a Lapis. In jewelry form, it was said to hold great power. The odd thing is, the altar I told you about, the one they built to worship the Fates sacrifice, is made entirely of this stone. It was the only thing left undamaged after the settlers came. Hang on a second.” He practically jumped out of his chair and headed back into the main room.
As the soft pad of his loafers drifted away, Fenn poked me in the side with his elbow. “I bet this ring has something to do with the temple. This has to be the clue that Eve wanted us to hear. Must be where a key is.”
I was thinking the same thing. I slid the ring off and laid it on the table in front of us.
“That’s great…if I decide to continue,” I reminded. “This whole map thing is bumming me out.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked up to Bob who had jogged back into the room. He had yet another book in his hands—so resourceful.
“See here,” he said, flipping the book open to a creased page and guiding our eyes with his finger. “This is a modern-day picture of the altar.” He pointed and gave us a moment to take it in. It looked like a really big block of dark blue stone that the native people carved intricate pictures into.