The three lower dragons stretched out their wings, allowing the updraft to fill their sails and slowly draw them into its flow. With gentle strokes, like oars through water, their wings lifted them higher and higher. The final two dragons flew below the pyramid, acting as a safety net, and the team of eight dragons angled toward the shining fence in the sky.
Walter glanced back at Joseph and freed his hand to wave. “What’s going to happen to you?” he yelled.
Joseph waved back and shouted. “When all has been fulfilled, I will be taken home to the eighth circle.” His voice began fading away. “Farewell! Godspeed to all of you!”
Walter refastened his hand on Thigocia, his black cloak flapping around his arms. Would the others need cloaks to pass through the portal, or was this one safer than the others? Should he put on his hood?
He gritted his teeth.
I’ll just trust Joseph. He would have told us if we needed protection.
The dragons, flying in a swirling, triple-stack formation, plunged through the shining gateway. Walter held his breath as they passed through a flashing, viscous membrane, popping out on the other side into a gloomy, nighttime sky.
Ashley whispered into the air. “Okay, Larry. I know it might take a while, but when Apollo’s charged to the calculated point, hit it!”
“Flash sequence countdown has commenced.”
Ashley grabbed the professor’s arm. “It’ll take at least a few minutes. We’d better find those Watchers and see what happens.”
They scurried up the hill and gazed around the summit. Even in the darkness, the shining creatures were easy to see as they made their way down the slope toward the entrance to the tor. Ashley and the professor trailed them, bending low to stay out of sight.
A new crowd had gathered at the gate, and many were streaming up the path. Morgan, Elaine, the dog, and the Watchers marched into the throng. The Watchers waved their massive arms, as if expecting the adulation of the crowds. Lightning flashed at their feet as they stomped along the path, and black clouds rushed over the tor, boiling up into a colossal thunderhead, blocking out the moon.
The dragon trailed behind, flapping his wings to steady his descent on the slope. “Hartanna is near,” it roared. “I can feel it.”
At the sound of the dragon’s voice, the mob scattered, dozens of people retreating to the entry gate.
“Then hunt her down and kill her!” Morgan shouted. She grabbed Samyaza’s hand. “Let us not risk facing Hartanna’s flames. Take to the skies, and I will guide us to our new base of operations.”
Samyaza swept Morgan into his arms and launched into the air. Another Watcher cradled Elaine, then scooped up the prism dog as the mass of shining beings streamed into the turbulent clouds.
The professor pulled Ashley’s wrist. “I know it could be suicide, but we must do all we can to prevent Hartanna’s murder. I don’t know if the dragon will harm Marilyn, but we can’t risk it.” Ashley gritted her teeth and nodded, but a loud buzzing sound made her turn. “Professor! The portal!”
The professor ran down the slope, waving back at her. “You see to that, Miss Stalworth. I must help Marilyn and Hartanna . . . or die trying.”
Ashley dashed over the hill, retracing her steps back to the portal terrace. The door to the other world burst open in a dazzling explosion of light, washing the entire side of the hill in a pulsating sapphire glow and bathing Ashley’s face in an icy wind. Six dragons popped out of the blazing rectangle, three over three, followed immediately by two more that zoomed upward and circled overhead. Of the first six, the three lower dragons settled to the ground, a colorful dome of light floating in their midst. A male rider clambered down the lead dragon’s back, a sword in his hand. The others found level spots on the terrace to land.
Ashley sprinted toward him, her arms spread out. “Walter! You made it!”
Walter received Ashley’s embrace, smiling broadly when she kissed his forehead. She pressed a clump of grime on his cheek and smeared it down to his chin. “You’re a mess!”
“Yeah, I had to do some dirty work, but I—”
“Wait!” Ashley interrupted. “Hartanna needs your help. She and Billy’s mom went over the top of the hill and down the path. There’s another dragon over there trying to kill her!”
Walter gave her a tired salute. “I’m on my way. Tell the dragons where I’m going. I’ll probably need their help.” Lifting his sword, he hustled to the crest of the tor and disappeared over the top.
Ashley ran toward the shimmering dome. Patrick and Shiloh climbed off their mounts and joined her. “What’s this?” Ashley asked, drawing closer and peering inside. She threw her hands over her mouth. “Oh, no!” She grabbed Shiloh’s arm. “Is she . . . ?” She swallowed down a painful lump. “Is she dead?”
“I’m afraid so,” Patrick said. “The regeneracy dome doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Can’t we do something?” Ashley asked. “Can’t we—”
A loud ruckus ripped away Ashley’s words. The lead dragon shouted commands as the others lined up on the terrace, flapping their wings to get in place. “That’s right. Attack positions. We will fly as one in battle formation. I sense the Watchers nearby. We cannot allow them to escape!”
Ashley forced herself to shout. “The Watchers just left.” She pointed up the slope. “They went over the tor, then flew away! But can’t you stay and help—”
“That is all the information I need, young lady. I assume the dead girl is your friend, so I apologize for having to rush away. Her chances are so slim, it would not be wise for me to spend the time to attempt a healing.” Thigocia beat her wings, sending fresh breezes across Ashley’s body, rippling her clothes. The great dragon lifted into the sky, and one by one the other dragons followed, their commander leading the way into the clouds.
Ashley covered her mouth again.
That dragon said . . .
She gasped.
Can it really be true?
Chapter 23
Billy draped the chain around his neck, tucked it under his shirt, then trudged slowly back to the center of the room where he had left Apollo. He pulled the folded sheet from his pocket and read the poem again.
A dragon chained in darkest pits
Will not behold pure freedom’s light,
For dragons claim a lofty perch,
Yet cannot reach the highest height.
For even now in pits of gloom
The dragon’s pride will never bow,
Until redemption’s sword sets free
The dragon’s heart to kneel and vow.
Billy crumpled up the paper and flung it on the mass of undulating worms. “Why couldn’t you bow?” His voice echoed against the scarred walls. “You bow . . . you bow . . .”
Billy thrust the sword back into its scabbard. Darkness enfolded the room. He spread out his arms. “But where are you now?” The echoes continued. “
Where are you now? . . . where are you now?”
A faint glow appeared in Apollo’s enclosure, sending a ray of light across the wadded paper as it rose and fell on the wiggling carpet. Two worms had latched onto it and were slowly gnawing away the edge. Billy nudged the paper with his toe, then snatched it up again. With tears welling, he refolded it neatly before sliding it into his back pocket.
A deep, mocking voice reverberated in the room. “Where are you now? Where are you now?”
Billy jerked Excalibur out and used its ambient glow to search the room. “Who said that?”
“Who said that?” the voice mocked again. A dark shadow grew out of the floor, rising toward the ceiling and solidifying into the shape of a dragon. “I’ll tell you where he is, Billy Bannister!”
Billy summoned Excalibur’s beam and slashed it across the shadow. The laser wrapped around the dragon, illuminating his reddish scales, but the light sputtered and dissolved. Excalibur dimmed, glowing no more than a child’s nightlight.
The dragon laughed. “Your understanding of that sword is not deep enough to defeat me.” Its tail snapped forward and cracked like a whip. “Behold! The tree that killed your Genesis father and you along with him!”
The chamber shook, rattling Billy’s joints. He fell to his seat, clutching Excalibur like a lifeline as hundreds of worms slithered over his legs. The worms suddenly transformed into moist dirt and a hole began opening at his feet, filling rapidly with water. He pushed against the mud, trying to slide away, but another hole ripped open behind him. He scrambled up and stood between the two growing holes, then slowly backed away to safer ground.
The water in the first hole bubbled to the surface and streamed across Billy’s shoes. The other hole gushed like a geyser, sending a misty spray across his face. A dark green stalk sprouted between the holes, growing into a tree in a matter of seconds. Two red, oblong apples popped up at the end of a branch and dangled within reach.
The dragon’s tail snaked around Billy’s wrist. It dragged him to the tree and pulled his hand toward the fruit, making him drop his sword. “Through seven circles,” the dragon growled, “I have drawn you toward the desire of your flesh. Why have you resisted? You are but a worm who longs to feast on Adam’s apple.”
Billy yanked his hand away. “You’re the worm, you lying snake!”
“Oh, you’re the clever one,” the dragon snapped, “but you won’t be feeling so witty after a few days alone in this chamber.” Excalibur, now lying in the mud, suddenly blinked off completely, turning everything black. A stream of fire shot from the dragon toward the tree, covering one of the apples with flame. When the fire abated, the fruit glowed cherry red. “Darkness will seep into your soul, and despair will conquer your spirit. But my tree will always be here to keep you company. As soon as you take the fruit, I will set you free and reunite you with your father.”
The dragon backed into one of the pools and began to sink into the water, its scales reflecting the crimson glow of the dangling apple. As the dragon’s head approached the bubbling surface, it snaked out its skinny, orange tongue. “I leave this reminder of one of your dead girlfriend’s favorite quotes.” It flashed a long row of razor teeth. “Call to me, and I will answer you.” Just before its mouth touched the water, it added, “My name . . . is Lucifer.” It disappeared in an eruption of steaming bubbles.
Billy stood motionless, staring into the dim chamber. The glowing apple cast an eerie halo, bathing everything in a bloody mask. Excalibur lay cold and dark, and Apollo sat upside down next to the blade without a hint of life. He retrieved his sword, turned Apollo upright, and stalked toward the tree, pulling Excalibur back with both hands.
“Die, you foul weed!” He swung at the trunk, but the blade clanked on the petrified bark and bounced back, rattling his bones. The apple shook, sending circular waves of energy across the crimson light field.
His head still vibrating, Billy sat down at the edge of one of the streams and let the cold water run through his shoes, soothing his scorched feet. As he rested, the red glow washed over his body, pricking the skin through his wet clothes like a gorse bush brushing his arms and back with its nettles.
He slid farther from the tree and turned his eyes away from the fruit. The stinging eased up a bit, but the darkness seemed to envelop him in a dirty red blanket, making it difficult to breathe. The stuffy air filled with putrid odors, a mixture of every foul scent he had experienced in the circles. He knew the painful sensations were part of the dragon’s attack, but with Excalibur powerless in his grip, he had no defense. He was alone.
Billy buried his face in his hands, shutting out the relentless red glow. “I’m not alone,” he whispered. “I’m never alone.”
The dragon’s echoing voice replied. “Call to me, and I will answer you.”
Billy shook his head violently. “No! I’ll never call to you!”
“Just take the fruit, and your suffering will end.”
Billy stamped his foot in the water. “No! Get away from me!”
The voice deepened, and his words echoed through the chamber. “Your father abandoned you and is gone forever . . . forever . . . forever. You long for help, but Bonnie is dead . . . dead . . . dead. Walter is trapped in my realm and will die there . . . die there . . . die there. And even if the professor searches to the ends of the earth, he will never find you . . . find you . . . find you. All is lost . . . lost . . . lost. There is nothing left to do but despair . . . despair . . . despair.”
Billy closed his eyes and slapped his hands over his ears. “Get away from me! Just . . . go . . . away!” After several seconds of total silence, he opened his eyes and slowly uncovered his ears. The odors vanished. The glow from the apple dimmed, then blinked off, leaving the chamber in complete darkness. Only the gentle splashing of water gave any hint that there was more than pure nothingness all around.
He mopped his damp forehead with his even wetter sleeve, then tried to look at his hand. Nothing. Total blackness. Even his wiggling fingers were invisible. He bit his lower lip and grabbed a handful of dirt. No light at all! It wasn’t supposed to be this way! Where was the guiding light the professor promised would always be there? And Joseph mentioned something about not recognizing the light. What could he have meant? Billy drooped his head between his knees. It was all so confusing! The mission wasn’t supposed to be
this
hard!
The sound of bubbling water washed through his brain. The splashes formed words in his mind, giving speech to his thoughts. The professor seemed to whisper in trickling prose. “God always provides a guiding light, William. No matter how dark it seems or how terrible the situation, you can always count on finding a glimmer, a spark of light in the deepest blackness that will tell you which way to go. . . . Don’t give in to darkness, for the dawn will eventually break.”
Billy stared into the void. Where was the light? There was no glimmer, not even a . . . A glint of red penetrated the darkness.
What was that?
He swung his head back and forth. A faint reddish glow raced across the lower half of his field of vision, then vanished, only to reappear an instant later. He dropped his chin to his chest, trying to track the fleeting beam. Again it flashed.
Aha!
Grabbing the chain around his neck, he drew out Shiloh’s pendant. The gem at the center still pulsed between two shades of red, illuminating his hand and his dark rubellite ring. He curled his fingers over the edge of the pendant and stared at it.
Okay. I found a light. Now what?
His gaze drifted from the pendant to his ring. Barely visible in the pendant’s strobing aura, his reflection stared back at him from his rubellite. In the darkness his image seemed more like a phantom than a photo, a floating misrepresentation of his features. It looked more like . . .
Dad?
He rose to his knees, his back straight. He closed his hand into a fist and tightly shut his eyes. “Dad,” he said out loud, “how am I ever going to get over you if you keep haunting me like this?” He reopened his eyes. “You’ve been around, but . . . but you turned into a dragon. You’re not really my dad anymore.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. His voice grew, pitching higher. “If you want to leave me, just go away! You’re tearing Mom and me apart!” He sniffed and clutched the pendant against his chest. “But if you want to come back and . . . and be my dad again, I’ll . . .” He gasped, “I’ll search . . . I’ll search for you from one end of the earth to the other!” He raised his clenched fist. “Nothing will stop me from finding you!”
He dropped the pendant under his shirt, picked up the sword, and gripped it tightly, but the blade remained dark. The lack of light opened an old wound in his mind. The day he pulled Excalibur from the stone back in West Virginia, the sword stayed cold and lifeless in his hands. It seemed like years passed before he finally learned the secret of its power. He had been lying half-unconscious on a cold laboratory floor in the midst of a collapsing mountain when the professor asked him, “What now is your weapon?” And on that fateful night he had replied, “Truth is my sword.” At that very instant Excalibur’s laser had burst forth, enabling him to defeat the slayer.
Truth. The word triggered the memory of his dilemma at the bridge and of Patrick stripping off his black cloak. “Fire away, Clefspeare,” Patrick had said. “I’m willing to sacrifice myself to make sure Billy sees the light of truth.” The man was ready to lay down his life for someone he barely knew. The expression of pure love on his face was a beacon.
Billy nodded. The guiding light was at the bridge after all.
He ran his finger along the edge of Excalibur’s darkened blade. “Sacrifice,” he whispered. “Isn’t that what love is really all about?” The blade sliced through his skin. “Ouch!” He felt a trickle of blood oozing down his finger. He let it flow, feeling it drip onto his palm. Wasn’t this the very symbol of sacrifice? Wasn’t this the element that extended the life of Devin and Palin, of Ashley’s grandfather, and of dragons themselves? Did the spilling of blood mean something more than he could ever understand?
Billy squeezed his finger, drawing more blood. He stared at his wound, trying to see through the darkness. A faint glow, almost undetectable, traced a line down his hand. What could be the source? Was his blood actually emitting light? He gasped.
Photoreceptors! They carry light!
Carefully, reverently, he smeared blood on the face of the blade. The faint glow spread across the metal, filling the etched design until it blushed with radiance. Two dragons were locked in combat, one blazing red, the other shimmering white. Light streamed from the white dragon’s mouth, pouring over the entire blade until Excalibur burst with brilliance.
Billy’s eyes drank in the glorious splendor of the flaming sword. He flexed his muscles, gripping the sword’s hilt with all his strength. The power was back!
The dragon, liar though he was, had said, “Your understanding of that sword is not deep enough to defeat me.” But now Billy knew. Excalibur’s blade was forged long ago in the fires of love and sharpened daily by the blood of sacrifice. He had understood so little of that truth, but now he would never forget. He brought the blade close to his face and let it rest on his forehead. It was time to go to war!
With light now flooding the chamber, he bounded through the stream, screaming a battle cry. He attacked the tree, slicing through the thick trunk with a single blow. The branches erupted with fire, and the apples exploded, sending black muck splattering all around. Billy raised his arm to block the slime as he slowly retreated. The tree toppled, striking the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
The jolt sent Billy stumbling backwards, tipping Apollo on its side. Its inner cavity suddenly flashed, then exploded in a blaze. The felled tree disappeared in a dazzling splash of sparks, leaving no trace of trunk, roots, or branches. The stone in Billy’s belt, the camera to the real world, shattered and flaked to the ground. Excalibur’s laser blasted upward, ripping an enormous hole in the ceiling. An avalanche of dirt rained down. Billy hustled to the middle of the chamber and covered his head with his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
Walter stormed down the other side of the hill, holding his sword out to the side. He followed the narrow, paved path until it turned sharply to the left at a natural ledge. Two men and a lady pointed toward a field near the base of the tor and shouted almost in unison, “The dragons are down there!”
Walter wiped his brow and gazed down the slope. The path curved back from the left and bordered a field to its right. “I see them!” The moon had reappeared, and in its glow, the two dragons seemed to shimmer, each one crouched as if ready to strike. Two human forms stood between the combatants, but shadows veiled their faces.
Walter charged ahead, taking a shortcut straight down the steep hill to join the path again. As he sprinted into the field, Hartanna roared, “Clefspeare, if you kill me, no man or beast will protect you from the Maker’s wrath.”
The professor stepped up boldly, as if trying to protect Hartanna, but his uplifted arms looked feeble in the shadow of the enormous dragon. Mrs. Bannister stood behind him, her hands on his back. The professor’s voice boomed. “Have you gone mad, Clefspeare? What demon has possessed you?”