Tears of a Dragon (14 page)
Arthur fell to his seat, and the sword’s light died away. Valcor rushed to his side, sliding his hand behind the king’s shoulder. Morgan, returning to her female form, glowered at the king. “You are all such fools. Knowing about my strategy will not protect your wives now or in the future. All who oppose me will feel my wrath, and no loved one is safe, man, woman, or child.”
Morgan sublimated to black fog and disappeared into the ellipse. Seconds later, the portal cleared to a pulsing red glow.
King Arthur jumped to his feet. “That sorceress from hell will not kill my queen.” He waved the sword in the air. “I will apply the king’s cap and ward off her evil minions.”
“That will shield her from the demons,” Merlin said, “but I don’t know how it will affect Morgan’s ability to see her. She is not one of them.”
The king relit Excalibur. “In any case, I must do what I can.” With the sword lighting the way, he sprinted down the narrow path.
Professor Hamilton’s shoulders slumped, his face ashen, his eyes joyless. His voice carried the death rattle of a moribund man. “There are two poems at the end, but I have no more strength to read.”
Sir Patrick took
Fama Regis
, keeping it open to the same page. “One of the poems is the prayer Billy read as he departed, the other is one for him to recite once he gets to the dragon resting place.” He put his finger on the page. “A final note tells him to take along one companion, a worthy one who, as it says, ‘would never leave or forsake you, no matter what.’”
Patrick hugged the professor, patting him on the back. “Do you believe your own wife is in the dungeon?”
The professor’s arms hung limp, his voice still barely audible. “Yes. . . . Yes, I do.”
Patrick released him, keeping one hand on his arm as he helped him sit. “Then let me tell the rest of the story, for, as you know, I was there with Merlin. What happened that night has replayed in my dreams countless times, especially the prophetic song I will relate. I have long known what a flashing rubellite means, and when you hear the story, you will understand why I could not tell Billy what I knew.”
Patrick closed the book and laid it in the professor’s lap, then stepped back and addressed the group as if ready to deliver a lecture. But unlike any stoic or monotonous university teacher, his eyes came alive with adventure, as though he were still viewing the events he was about to relate. Reaching out his arms to hug empty space, he spoke in a vivid storyteller’s voice:
When the king departed, I embraced Merlin. “My dear friend, what can I do to help? I will go to that place myself and rescue your wife if you will only tell me how.”
Merlin pulled away from my arms. “At this time there is no way for a living person to enter that place. If you were to die, however, you would go there, for it is the haunt of dead dragons.”
“Dead dragons?” I peered into the aura, but red mist clouded my view. “Then why did they appear to be humans?”
“They walk there as the humans they would have been had they been born to Adam’s offspring or else transformed into humans as you were. But since they were designed never to die, they wander in futility—without a human soul, without hope, and without a redeemer.”
I lifted a thin, leather cord that hung around Merlin’s neck. A crude, wooden cross dangled at the bottom. “Humans have a redeemer. Why not dragons?”
Merlin wrapped his palm around the cross and drew his fist to his breast. “The human messiah, fully God and fully man, was sent to rescue the offspring of Adam, a creature made in the image of God. A messiah for dragons, who were made in the image of man, would have to be fully man and fully dragon.”
“Fully man and fully dragon?” I pointed at myself. “Isn’t that what I am?”
“Almost.” Merlin released the cross and placed his hand on my chest. “Although you have a human body, you still lack an eternal human soul. If a dragon redeemer were to come, you would then have the choice to step fully into the human condition. You would lose all dragon genetics and receive a human soul.”
I placed my hand over Merlin’s. “And then the human redeemer would lead me to everlasting life.”
“Indeed.” Merlin’s face beamed like a proud grandfather’s. “In any case, the gateway has not yet been made ready. While I am away on my journey, it will be my mission to open a passage to Dragons’ Rest, using a device that I will call the Great Key. It will unlock the door that divides the two worlds. I believe there will come a time when that passage will be the salvation of both mankind and dragonkind.”
“Of both races?”
“Yes. The Watchers, the powerful demons of old who were banished to the abyss, are seeking a way out. Unfortunately, it seems that such an escape is possible, and all of mankind would be threatened by their reappearance.” Merlin lifted his head and gazed into the sky, a slight puff of white visible in his breath. “Hear the word of the Lord, my friend.”
While dragons seek the Holy Grail,
A star is plucked from seas of light.
He journeys through a tempest wind
And plunges into darkest night.
And finding dragons lost in ruin,
He sounds a trumpet to restore,
But as he sweeps the scattered bones,
The vermin follow to make war.
The foulest snakes of Satan’s brood
Will fly from pits on demon wings.
With loins on fire they lust for flesh
And seize the thrones of sleeping kings.
Merlin lowered his head, moving his gaze to the red aura. “I do not know the full meaning of this prophecy, but the Watchers are surely the foulest snakes.” He let out a long sigh and turned to me, his voice as thin as the vapor escaping with his words. “Is it a sin, Valcor, that my motivations sometimes veer toward self-interest? Although my first desire is to help the dragons find their way out of their prison, I also hope, in so doing, to provide a way of escape for my wife.”
I clasped Merlin’s shoulder. “It is no sin to seek what is best for your wife.”
“True enough, but I also have this yearning within. We were together for so many years, my soul longs for hers as though I am half a man without her by my side, perhaps even less than half.”
“God put that yearning in your heart when he joined you together. How can it be a sin?”
Merlin firmed his jaw and nodded, his voice strengthening. “I will oversee the salvation of the dragons. I will travel across the boundaries of spiritual realms and guide the paths of those God has chosen to fulfill his plan.” He gripped my wrist, excitement spiking his voice. “As Elijah returned in power and spirit in the form of John the Baptist, so I will return in one of my descendants. That son of mine will also play the part of the magi, going to the place of the messiah’s birth, bearing three gifts—faith, truth, and wisdom—though each one of these gifts is a treasure the dragon messiah must also gain on his own, for it is impossible to lend someone your faith.”
Seeming stronger than ever, Merlin strode to the portal and set his hand on top. He pushed it down, squeezing the aura into the rubellite sitting on the ground below. As it compressed, a stream of energy popped out, like a frazzled lightning bolt. The stream spun around Merlin and me three times, then shot into the sky.
With my arms stiff at my side, I watched the sparkling current fade in the distance. “What was that?”
“I have no idea!” Merlin replied, his hand still on top of the portal.
“Is it a sign? Part of the prophecy?”
“I will seek wisdom on this mystery, but for now—” Merlin pressed the portal into the gem and picked it up—“I want you to take this rubellite. It was the gateway to the underworld for the last dragon king, and I intend to use it as the Great Key. Keep it safe. When I have set the plan of redemption in order, I will make sure the way to use this key is added to the king’s chronicles.”
He laid the stone in the palm of my hand. “Master Merlin! The rubellite is no longer pulsing.”
Merlin rocked the gem with his finger. “Makaidos! He has either died, or . . .” He gazed into the sky. “He has escaped.”
“My father? Escaped?” I tried to find a trace of the energy trail, but it had vanished. “What will happen to him? Where will he go?”
“I am not sure. He died before the transformation, and he has no body in which to reside. Unless he finds a way to reanimate his dragon carcass, he will be a wandering spirit.”
I held the gem in my fingertips. “Shall I tell Irene about this? After all, Makaidos was Irene’s father too, and you know what happened to my other sister.”
“Yes,” Merlin said, covering the stone with his hand, “but guard what you say. Tell her that the rubellite once belonged to her father and reflects the vitality of his mortal essence, but keep the rest to yourself. Since we don’t know what really happened to Makaidos, speculation about his fate would be foolhardy. The secret of the rubellite’s property as a gateway to Dragons’ Rest must remain a secret until after the new dragon king enters the prison. When he comes, he must find his own way.”
Patrick folded his hands over his waist. “When I showed the rubellite to Irene, she kept it for a time, then passed it back to me after Merlin’s departure from this world. For my part, I built my home where Merlin and I met the king. The oldest section of the house still stands, and its outer window is framed directly over the spot where the rubellite unveiled Dragons’ Rest. That very window became a portal to the human underworld, through which Billy and Bonnie entered the circles of seven.”
Patrick reached for the sword on the professor’s back and rested his hand on top of the hilt. “So you see, Charles, when I dubbed you Merlin, I was hoping, as his descendant, that you were the one about whom the original Merlin spoke. You have been God’s instrument, his voice crying in the wilderness to make straight the way of the dragon messiah. You were the magus who sojourned to the place of his birth and brought him gifts of truth and wisdom, then led him to faith in his own messiah. In so doing, you raised up the one who is called to lead the dragons out of their prison so that they, too, will have the opportunity to find the ultimate savior.”
A gentle smile grew on the professor’s face. “You and Merlin composed an ingenious plan, my old friend. When you sent me to West Virginia in search of the king’s heir, I had no idea that you already knew he was there. How could you be sure I would find him and give him the gifts?”
Patrick moved his hand from the sword to the professor’s shoulder. “Because you are the magus, and you followed the star, the guiding light that led you westward. And I also knew your character, that you possessed the royal gifts of faith, truth, and wisdom, and you would undoubtedly give whatever you could to the coming king.” He straightened his body and crossed his arms over his chest. “I had nothing else to do with it. God and Merlin did the rest. I merely waited for you to bring Billy to England for his own wilderness journey.”
The professor rose to his feet, a hint of anxiety in his expression. “And does he now take the road to Jerusalem? Will this be his Via Dolorosa?”
“I am not sure how closely Billy’s journey must parallel that of the human messiah.” Patrick tapped the cover of
Fama Regis
. “All I know is that he has read the king’s portion of the story, and he has gone into the prison to rescue the dragons in whatever manner God chooses. He also read that Merlin’s wife is there somewhere, and, knowing him, he will try to rescue her as well.”
Professor Hamilton’s head dipped slightly. “But he doesn’t know my wife is there.”
“No,” Patrick replied, shaking his head. “I don’t see how he could.”
Marilyn, who had listened intently to the stories, collected herself enough to speak. “Professor, I have a question.” Closing her eyes, she laid a hand on her forehead as if suffering from a bad headache. “When you said Via Dolorosa, were you talking about the road to Calvary?”
“Yes, Marilyn. It means the way of sorrows, the way of the cross.”
“That’s what I thought.” She wiggled her fingers over her tightly shut eyes. “So are you saying to be this dragon messiah, Billy has to die?”
After a few seconds of silence, the professor finally replied, his voice soft and caring. “Not necessarily, Marilyn. I think he will have a choice. But knowing William—”
“Stop!” Marilyn shouted, raising her hand. “I know what you’re going to say!” She slowly opened her eyes and wrapped her fingers around the flashing pendant. “I . . . I’m sorry Professor,” she said, patting him on the back. “This isn’t your doing.” She gave him the brightest smile she could. “I know that.”
Marilyn walked several steps away from the two gentlemen. Taking in a few shallow breaths, she looked up into the dark sky. “Dear God . . .” Her voice pitched higher, trembling. “Please bring my son back to me. I—” She grimaced and shook her head. “No. . . . No, that’s not it.” Taking a deep breath, she swallowed, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “You know what I need, Lord.” She lifted the pendant toward the sky. “But let your will be done.”
Chapter 9
Ashley tapped her jaw and caressed one of her molars with her tongue. A slight vibration tickled her gums. She lowered her hand and released a long breath. Whew! The tooth transmitter was working.
Leaning forward to get a better view of the ground, she raised her voice a notch. “So, Mr. Samyaza. Where are you taking me?”
His gruff voice answered from the underbelly of the plane. “To a facility we equipped just for this purpose.”
“Equipped?” Ashley pressed her nose against the side window, trying to get a glimpse of the demon, maybe a wing or a foot, but she could see only darkness.
“You’ll recognize pieces of your Montana laboratory.”
Samyaza’s voice seemed agitated, as though Ashley’s questions irritated him, but she didn’t really care about staying on his good side, so she continued her probing. “You salvaged my lab? I thought it was in a shambles.”
“The parts we collected are in need of repair.”
“I’ll bet.” Ashley slid out of the pilot’s seat and tiptoed toward the back of the plane, ducking her head under the low ceiling. “Thousands of pounds of rocks don’t mix well with delicate equipment.”
“Well put, but we are confident in your abilities. You’ll have plenty of incentive.”
She lifted the lid on the crate, her hand still stinging from the burn. Walter’s eyes peeked out, as big and white as ping-pong balls. She pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Remember, you’re not on board. I’m putting on an act.”
“What did you say?” Samyaza growled.
Ashley raised her voice again. “Is the inner core intact?”
“If you mean the lead box, it was bent but not broken.”
“Good.” She replaced the crate lid, noting a two-inch gap on one side, enough to provide air. She whispered into the gap, “After I’m out of sight, count to ten and try to find me.”
“What is out of sight?” Samyaza asked. “I can’t hear very well through the fuselage. It sounded like you’re trying to find something.”
“Is the engine out of light?” Ashley shouted. “Is the lens fried, or is it fine?”
“The engine is producing light, but the lens is shattered.”
Holding onto the seats on each side, she walked back up the aisle. “I’ll need a special kind of glass and a grinder for a new lens. Do you know where I can get those?”
“We anticipated that. There is a nearby town with several glassmakers. I’m sure we can procure whatever you need. Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”
“Look, Mr. Demon, I’m just thinking ahead.” She settled back into her seat and buckled her belt. “If you think you know how to do this, then be my guest.”
The plane shuddered. Ashley bounced in her seat, her belt keeping her from slamming against the ceiling. Walter’s crate banged against the cargo door.
“I am no fool,” Samyaza roared. “Don’t play me for one.”
After a few seconds, the ride smoothed out again. “Okay.” She held her hand against her chest, gasping. “I get . . . the picture. How long till we land?”
The plane began descending. “Soon enough.”
Ashley leaned toward the window. “Wow! The moon’s really bright. I see a long, skinny lake down there. What’s it called?”
“What do you think I am? Your tour guide? Don’t say another word until we land, or I’ll shake this plane so hard, you’ll hear your own bones rattle.”
Resisting the urge to snap back with a stinging remark, Ashley chewed on her tongue. That was too close. She needed to be careful. After all, she was dealing with one of the head honcho demons, not some backwoods wannabe bad guy. No telling what he was capable of doing. If he didn’t need her to rescue Devin, he probably already would’ve . . .
She bit the edge of her finger. Time to change the subject. It looked like she would have to go ahead and get Devin out of the candlestone, but how could she make sure everyone was safe before she did it? She released her finger and wiped it on her shirt. After she did the job, they wouldn’t need Pebbles, Mrs. Foley, or her anymore, so they were bound to go ahead and kill them. Why risk letting them go? And they sure wouldn’t let Pebbles go before she finished. Otherwise she wouldn’t have any reason to do what they wanted.
She pulled in her bottom lip. Then again, maybe they would kill the others. Maybe they didn’t know that she’d rather die than let that maniac out. But what options did she have to keep the others safe? She had Walter on board, and Larry was just a breath away, but was that enough to mount a rescue attempt?
Ashley scanned the dashboard, trying to decipher all the instruments. Altimeter, air speed . . . Aha! The GPS! She flipped on the switch and waited for the system to lock in on her location. Within seconds, the screen showed a tiny airplane in the middle of a map. Using the control buttons to zoom in tight, she calculated their location—Deep Creek Lake State Park in Western Maryland. At their rate of descent, they would land in minutes. But how could she tell Larry without letting Samyaza know what she was doing? He had already warned her to be quiet.
As the plane flew low over the massive lake, Ashley mumbled in the back of her throat, “Morse code,” then coughed to cover it up.
The plane shook, angling heavily to the right. “No more warnings! I know you’re up to something.”
Ashley pinched her nose. “I said dis is the worse code I’ve had in a long time. I think I’m getting chills.” She began chattering her teeth, making long and short clicks to match the dashes and dots of Morse code.
“You asked for it!”
Merlin II
rattled like a bag of marbles in a toddler’s hand, pitching, then barrel rolling. Instruments all over the dashboard exploded, pouring out sparks and smoke. The cargo door flew open. Walter’s crate skidded sideways. It teetered on the edge of the doorway, then plunged into the void. A rush of wind sent papers flying out in his wake.
Ashley tried to scream, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. When the plane finally settled down, she bent over the side of her seat and clutched her abdomen, swallowing an eruption of bile as she desperately tried not to vomit. Tears filled her eyes, hot, stinging tears. She sobbed, quietly mouthing, “Walter! Oh, Walter!”
As Billy tried to propel himself forward, his mind felt like it was breaking apart and the pieces were scattering in a hurricane. Just seconds ago, he was able to think clearly, but now the simplest thoughts proved to be a struggle. Even as he tried to formulate an idea for his next step, he forgot his previous thought, forcing him to start over. All he could remember was his mission and that Bonnie was somewhere nearby. Could he still contact her? Was this brain-splitting stuff happening to her, too?
He steeled his consciousness, calling on all his energy to keep his sanity. He spoke out in his mind. “Bonnie? You still there?”
“Yes!” Her thought seemed agitated, frightened.
“Okay,” Billy “said,” trying to calm his thoughts for Bonnie’s sake. “Get ready . . . for a change.”
“What . . . kind . . . of change?”
“I don’t know.” Every word Billy expressed was like spitting out a cannonball. “A big one . . . I think.”
“Okay. . . . I’ll do my best.”
Billy drew up every last atom of strength and spoke firmly in his mind.
I have no sword or shield in hand,
No weapons of a knight.
I come to save a wandering soul
From shadows of the night.
My eye has seen, my ear has heard,
’Tis love that sets men free.
To make scales flesh, to make red white
O give us eyes to see.
As his words died away, Billy’s awareness of himself increased—first a sense of feeling in his fingers, toes, and skin, then a flood of scarlet filled his vision. The substance slowly thinned, like strawberry gelatin melting into liquid.
Flexing his fingers and arms, he could tell that his body was again intact, though he was unable to see anything through the red stuff. A voice reached his ear, echoing across an expanse like a call from a man on a distant shore. “Take this. You will need it later.”
Billy suddenly felt a lump in his hand, as if someone had pressed a small object into his palm and rolled his fingers closed. The voice continued. “Give it to the first person who mentions your father’s royal name. A ring is the only ticket to the theatre. As soon as you find the theatre, you must enter. Only then will you learn how to rescue the deathless.”
The liquid slowly dissolved into gas—red mist, then pink, and finally white vapor that melted away, like fog evaporating in the heat of mid-morning. Billy’s eyes focused on a quaint village setting—a cobblestone street with a horse carriage tied up on the side and a planked sidewalk filled with streams of people window-shopping as they passed by a feed store, a dry goods shop, and a butcher.
He opened his palm revealing a rubellite ring. “Will you look at that!” he said, turning to Bonnie. “I already have one. I wonder why—”
She breathed in a loud gasp. “Billy! My wings! They’re gone!”
The sound of galloping ripped through Billy’s ears. He jerked Bonnie back, just in time for a team of stagecoach horses to tear by. “Whew!” Billy shoved the ring into his pocket and mopped his forehead. “We were in the middle of the street.” With one hand still on Bonnie’s shoulder, he turned her gently to get a look at her back. “No wings. Cool!”
Bonnie spun around, a hurt expression on her face. “Cool? You like it better this way?”
“No! It’s not that! I was just thinking the weird stuff that’s happening here is kind of exciting.
That
kind of cool.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t necessarily like it better.”
Now near the edge of the street, Bonnie set one foot on the raised planks and one in the sand that had collected at the berm. She eyed Billy carefully, her lips tight.
He shrugged again. “It’s just different. That’s all.”
Bonnie turned away and dipped her head. “I know. I’m just kind of upset at myself. I was excited too, like I was glad they were gone, like I’ll be sorry if they come back when we get out of this place.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “I should know better.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy drew a line in the sand with his shoe. He wanted to cheer her up, but what could he say? Everything that came to mind seemed inadequate, either too contrived or too romantic. He decided to go for it. Better to tell the truth than to worry about how his words sounded. “Bonnie, I would like you, wings or no wings. It doesn’t change how important you are to me.”
Bonnie lifted her head, a tender smile gracing her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You know, it feels really weird, almost like I’m off balance. I have to be careful not to fall forward, because I’m so used to carrying a load on my back.”
“I’ve changed too.” Billy laid a hand on his stomach. “I don’t feel anything brewing down below. I think my fire breathing’s gone.”
“So we don’t have dragon traits anymore?”
“Seems like it. I had no idea those horses were coming, so I guess my sense of danger bit the dust, too.”
Billy surveyed the stores and the signs hanging overhead. Sunlight filtered across them from a pink horizon. Although it had been late evening at their campsite, it seemed to be earlier here, the time when afternoon began giving way to dusk. Candles glowed in windows, and people meandered into various buildings, locks clicking as they shut the doors behind them. Closing time.
A man strolled by, tipping a black bowler. “Evening, Miss,” he said to Bonnie.
“Bat?” she said softly. But the man didn’t turn. He repositioned his hat and ambled down the walkway.
“Bat?” Billy repeated. “Who’s Bat?”
“Bat Masterson.” She spread her arms, her eyes wide. Her face was so pale, she seemed as dead as when Billy carried her to the bridge in the seventh circle. Her fingernails dug into his hand. “I’m back!”
“Back? Back where?”
“The sixth circle. But it’s . . . it’s different somehow.” She pointed at Bat. “Shiloh and I were here in this village, and we saw that very man.” She strode across the sidewalk, teetering forward, then plopped down on a bench that abutted the outer wall of a shop. “This is where we sat when he walked by.” Bonnie searched the back rail with her fingers. “But Shiloh’s marks aren’t here.”
Billy sat next to her. “What marks?”
“The ones Shiloh used to count the years.” Bonnie caressed the dark, weathered wood on the seat. “This is the bench. I’m sure of it.”
Billy intertwined his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “I guess quite a few things are different. You told me the people acted like you weren’t there”—he nodded toward the man in the bowler hat as he turned into an alley—“but that guy talked to you.”
“Right. When I was here before, Shiloh pulled on Bat’s arm and begged him for food, but he didn’t even glance at her.”
Billy tilted forward and propped his chin in his hand. “Hmmmm.”
“What are you humming about?”
He kicked a pebble out to the street. “This town. The story in
Fama Regis
made it sound like it was older, sort of medieval. Maybe it got modernized somehow.”
“To make it look more like home for new arrivals?”
“I guess. Whatever ‘home’ is.” Billy paused for a moment. A lady in a floral-print dress sashayed by, staring at them for a moment before quickly looking away. Billy pulled at his shirt through his unzipped jacket—dirty, wrinkled, still damp. Bonnie’s clothes didn’t look much better. A dark, vertical smear soiled the back of her sweatshirt, shading most of the opening where her wings once came through. Mud speckled both of her denim pant legs.
When the lady rounded a corner, Billy continued. “All I know is that this place is full of dragons in human form, and Merlin’s wife is here, too.”
“Merlin’s wife?” Tight lines furrowed Bonnie’s brow. “I guess I should’ve known he had one, since the professor is his descendant.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “But I never thought about it before.”
Billy stood, took off his jacket, and propped it behind Bonnie’s head. “You look really tired.”
“I am.” She slid down on the bench and lay on her back, folding the jacket on the armrest behind her head. Her eyelids fell to half-mast as she pulled her knees up to make room for Billy. “I haven’t had much sleep lately.”