Omega Dragon

by Bryan Davis

  “But I think one element is crucial. You must have faith. Just as Jesus called Lazarus from the tomb without doubting, so must you call Lauren. While I was training for four years in Abaddon’s Lair, Joan of Arc said something profound. I don’t remember the exact words, but they went something like this: Every call to life echoes the longing in the heart of the caller. It is like thunder within, a drum that beats without a rhythm. It searches for the power to infuse the thrumming of a new heartbeat in the loved one’s dead body. It combines words of love with the music of sacrifice and the rhythm of a disciplined purpose. These blend in concert to create a song of passion, a heart set on fire, and without that fire no one can be reborn.”

  Listener glanced up briefly, as if checking for a reaction. “So, Matt,” she continued, again reading the screen, “call for Lauren with all your heart, and I am confident that God will guide you through the steps on this uncertain path.”

  Listener laid the phone on the table and kept her gaze on it. Sir Barlow shifted uneasily in place.

  “That’s it?” Matt asked.

  She nodded, her brow furrowed. “We don’t have a dragon to melt the statue’s shell, we don’t know how to put a soul into an egg, and we don’t know how to insert her soul back into her body.” Her companion floated in front of her eyes and flashed red. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m not criticizing the instructions. I’m sure Bonnie did the best she could.”

  “That’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” Matt exhaled heavily. “It’s true, though. We’ll be shooting in the dark, but we also learned a lot. I need to call Lauren to resurrect, and maybe the other steps aren’t necessary.”

  Sir Barlow raised a hand. “If I may offer a suggestion. The dragon Karrick is in Second Eden. Perhaps he could melt the shell.”

  “Not enough time,” Listener said. “Besides, according to Abaddon, the portal is safe to go through only in one direction—from here to the tree-of-life chamber in Hades. He did that so no one would return to his lair after Sir Barlow and I escorted everyone home to Second Eden.”

  Matt glanced at the floor where a flame-retardant cloak lay, the cloak they had used for protection when passing to this chamber from the bottomless pit. They could use it to return to Abaddon’s Lair after finding Karrick, but, as Listener said, there was no time to search for him. The sand in the hourglass indicated about ten minutes left until the lair’s destruction.

  Sir Barlow gestured with his head toward the shuttered window. “We can take Lauren’s body, her statue, and everything else with us to Second Eden.”

  “Can we?” Matt touched Lauren’s lifeless hand. “I mean, I know we can bring her body, but isn’t her soul supposed to stay here until she’s resurrected?”

  “Maybe not,” Listener said. “Since her soul is encased in—”

  A rumble shook the floor. Something cracked in the ceiling. Grit rained from above and pelted the table and their heads. Matt snatched up the cloak and draped it over Lauren’s body. “Get everything through the portal!”

  A louder crack echoed. Pebbles and larger stones cascaded from the ceiling. Matt slid his arms under Lauren’s body and carried her and the cloak toward the window.

  Sir Barlow ran ahead and threw open the shutters, revealing a low brick wall built above a waist-high sill. Wind rushed through the chamber and funneled out. His hair blowing askew, he intertwined his fingers and cupped his hands near Matt’s knee. “Up you go!”

  Still carrying Lauren, Matt set a foot in the cup. Sir Barlow boosted him over the bricks and launched him into a cylindrical room. Matt crashed onto a stone floor and slid headfirst with Lauren along a bed of fallen leaves.

  A light flickered at the corner of his eye. The tree of life stood just a step or two away. The foliage burned vibrantly without consuming the leaves, warming the surrounding air. He rose to his knees and settled Lauren on her back, far enough from the fire to avoid contact and close enough to stay limber.

  “Matthew!” Sir Barlow called from beyond the window. “We must hurry!”

  Matt grabbed the cloak and draped it over his head. He leaped over the bricks and into the resurrection chamber. The cloak sizzled and popped, and a stabbing shock jolted his body. He toppled to the floor. His muscles twitched, and spots pulsed in his vision.

  In near darkness, Sir Barlow dragged Lauren’s statue toward the window. A huge slab dropped from the ceiling and crashed mere inches from him, raising clouds of debris. “Shout if you need help,” he said with a grunt, “but if not, I suggest that you drag the second statue, and we can heave them together.”

  Matt struggled to his feet and walked on stiff legs toward the table. The only remaining lit candle lay sideways on the floor, its flame withering. Barely visible in the dimness, Listener carried Abaddon’s book tucked under her arm, the glass egg in one hand, and the hourglass in the other. Loud cracks sounded along with a thunder-like rumble. “Hurry!” Listener shouted. “I hear a rush of water!”

  The entire chamber rattled. The statue wobbled, now only a few steps away. Matt trudged toward it, his feet set wide apart as if he were walking on the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Listener walked in the same manner toward the portal window, the resurrection items now locked in one arm and her opposite hand reaching for the stone table for support.

  As Matt passed by Listener, he draped the cloak over her shoulders. “In case you have to come back through.”

  “Thank you.” She set the book and other items on the table and began fastening the cloak’s clasp with hurried fingers. The ground quaked violently. The table lurched. The book tumbled to the floor next to a table leg. The binding snapped, and pages scattered. She dropped to her knees and began scooping the yellowed parchments. “I have to get these! Some might be important!”

  “I’ll be right there!” When Matt reached the statue, he wrapped his arms around it and dragged it toward the window. Water burst from a gaping hole in the ceiling, poured to the floor, and doused the last candle. Now the flaming tree beyond the portal acted as the only source of light. As more water gushed, a huge wave tore the statue from his grasp and sent him tumbling underwater.

  He grabbed the top of the stone table and thrust his head into the clear. As he gasped for air, he scanned the roaring river. Sir Barlow stood in the chest-high flood, clutching Lauren’s statue and the edge of the portal window. The rapid current tore at his body and splashed foam across his face. The wall turned the river to the right where it channeled into a corridor and disappeared from view.

  “Listener is underwater!” Sir Barlow nodded toward a point near Matt. “Down there!”

  Matt thrust his head back under. Listener swayed in the flow with the cloak caught under the stone table’s leg, the clasp still fastened and her eyes closed.

  He thrust himself downward, grabbed her around the waist, and wrenched the cloak free. As he held on, the flow sent them both hurtling toward the portal window.

  Within seconds, Sir Barlow’s lower body came into view. Matt latched onto his leg. Something caught hold of his collar and jerked him and Listener to the surface. He spat out a stream of water—warm and sweet. Barlow stared at him, his face only inches away. “You first, lad, and then I will hoist Listener to you. I already shoved the statue in there.”

  Matt twisted his body and, with a push from Barlow, climbed over the bricks and into the tree chamber. He spun and reached out his arms, but an electric shock burned his hands. He backpedaled and nearly tripped over Lauren’s statue, which now lay next to her body.

  Sir Barlow lifted Listener, wet and limp, until her shoulders crossed the portal plane. Matt grabbed her arms, hauled her through, and laid her on the floor as close to the fiery tree as he dared. He listened for respiration, but no sound emanated from her nose or mouth. He pushed once on her stomach. She coughed a stream of water and sucked in a gurgling breath.

  Matt turned her to her side and repeatedly thumped her back with his hand. “Inhale through your nose
. Exhale through your mouth.” He turned toward the window. “Sir Barlow! Get in here before you get swept away!”

  “Coming!” Sir Barlow sloshed to Matt’s side and dropped to his knees. “It seems that the lass has narrowly escaped drowning.”

  “So far.” As Listener coughed more water, the volume diminishing with each spasm, Matt continued thumping her back. “We just have to make sure she gets it all out and watch for secondary drowning symptoms.”

  “Yes, I have heard of that phenomenon.”

  When Listener’s coughs settled, Matt helped her sit up. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be.” She coughed once more and smiled. “Thank you for saving my life.” As she began shedding the saturated cloak, she turned to Sir Barlow. “Both of you.”

  “My pleasure, Miss.”

  Listener turned toward the portal. “Look. The water must be flowing out at least as fast as it’s coming in.”

  Matt shifted and sat facing Abaddon’s Lair. The water level still lapped close to the top of the brick wall. “I wonder how much time is left.”

  “Very little,” Sir Barlow said as he set the hourglass at Matt’s feet. “The timepiece floated up just before I climbed through, and it seems to have stayed upright, though I cannot be certain. I was unable to salvage anything else.” He picked up Lauren and laid her between Matt and the portal. Her arms and legs barely shifted. Rigor mortis was setting in. “So we can keep an eye on her while we watch the demise of Abaddon’s Lair.” Sir Barlow sat next to Matt. “Perhaps we will be lucky enough to spot the book and snatch it out of the water.”

  “Not much chance of that.” As Matt gazed at Lauren’s corpse, his throat tightened. “Without the book or the instructions, we can’t resurrect her.”

  Listener set the cloak next to Lauren, slid her arm around Matt’s and intertwined their fingers. “We’ll figure something out. Resurrection power does not abide in Abaddon’s Lair or in a book or in potions. It is in the hands of the Father of Lights.”

  He looked into her eyes. Although sparkling with tears, they exuded assurance, determination. “Keep up that confident spirit. We’re going to need it.”

  “I will. My companion will remind me.” Listener pushed her fingers through her pigtails. “Matt, do you see her?”

  He scanned the area around Listener’s shoulders. With the braids wet but intact, the companion didn’t have anywhere to hide. “No. Could the water have washed … uh … her away?”

  “I had a vision while swimming in the flood.” Listener’s voice grew tense but stayed under control. “Maybe she really is gone.”

  “If I may,” Sir Barlow said, “I noticed your companion near your ear when you ducked under the table, but when the wave hit you, you fell and disappeared underwater. I did not notice her afterward.”

  Listener’s chin quivered. “Matt, if any Second Edener loses a companion, he or she dies within a day.”

  Matt searched the area again—the floor, near the tree, around the window. No luck. “How many times has someone lost a companion?”

  “Just twice that I’ve heard about. And if you count me losing one when I was little, that makes a third time, but that companion was crippled, and I had one remaining.”

  Matt studied her face—bright eyes, rosy cheeks, slightly blue lips, probably from lack of oxygen. “Do you feel sick? Weak?”

  “No. I feel …” She touched her chest. “Filled?”

  “Filled?” Sir Barlow touched his throat. “Well, Miss, this might sound insane, but could you have swallowed your companion?”

  “She’s too big to swallow, even by accident.” Listener narrowed her eyes and ran her hands along her frame from neck to waist. “I feel fuller throughout my body. Calmer … more … rested, I suppose. I really can’t explain it.”

  “That’s great, Listener.” Matt forced a hopeful tone. “Maybe it won’t hurt you to lose your companion. You know, because it’s happened before.” He turned toward the portal. The flaming tree drew dancing yellow flickers across Lauren’s body, massaging her with light. The fire also lit up the hourglass’s trickling sand and made the grains sparkle as they dropped to the lower bowl. Every grain felt like a lost chance, hope dissolving. Only about a minute remained.

  Inside the lair, the rest of the ceiling crashed into the flood and disappeared below the surface. A side wall toppled, sending a new wave that rolled up to the portal. Its crest splashed against the windowsill, and the spray washed over their faces. Water oozed onto the tree-room floor and seeped under Lauren’s body.

  When the final grains of sand fell to the bottom of the hourglass, Abaddon’s Lair darkened. Without a sound, the shutters closed and faded, replaced by shelves where a few books and scrolls lay scattered in haphazard array.

  A burst of light splashed across the wall. The shelves vanished. As if painted by radiant fingers, a vertical column took shape in the midst of a dark background, maybe five paces beyond the wall. From dozens of small holes in the column, crimson light emanated and created a surrounding aura in various shades of red.

  The radiance dwindled, dispersed, and rained on Lauren’s body like dying embers. Matt leaned forward and swept the sparks from her shirt. No harm done. Yet, his sense of danger spiked. Might something be lurking beyond the new portal?

  When he settled back, he studied the glowing column. “That’s Jade’s sanctum, but it looks different.”

  Sir Barlow squinted. “Indeed. The room is darker than before. The mirrors are no longer—”

  “Wait!” Listener craned her neck. “I hear crackling. Like fire.”

  “From the tree?” Matt asked.

  “It’s coming from …” She rocked up to her knees and cocked her head. “From Lauren?”

  “What?” Matt scooted closer. “How is that possible?”

  Flames sprouted from under Lauren’s back at both sides. “Fire!” Listener grabbed the cloak and threw it over her. “Smother it!” She and Matt shoved the edges of the wet material under Lauren’s body. Sizzles erupted. Steam shot out in plumes, and foul-smelling smoke permeated the air.

  Within seconds, the smoke dispersed. Matt heaved short breaths. “I think … I think just her clothes got singed. No skin damage.”

  “That’s wishful thinking.” Listener set her ear closer. “I still hear fire, but it might be the tree. I’m not sure.”

  “We have to check.” Matt lifted the cloak. Flames broke out anew across Lauren’s body. Smoke billowed. He threw the cloak over her again and held it in place. The wet material sizzled. Heat radiated into his skin. Gasping, he looked at Listener. “Is she still burning?”

  Listener’s lips pressed together. “I think her body is burning on the inside while she’s covered, and the flames ignite on the outside when you take the cloak off.”

  “We need water!” Matt searched the cylindrical chamber. A few puddles lay where the wave from Abaddon’s Lair had sloshed in. He threw the cloak to the side and rolled Lauren’s body into the water. New flames ignited. The puddles bubbled and popped. Steam shot upward and disappeared.

  Now on his knees, Matt cupped his hands and desperately scooped water over her body. “Lauren! No! Don’t burn!” He sucked in a breath and shouted, “God, help me!”

  Listener and Sir Barlow added their own scoops, but the flames just grew higher. “Stop!” Matt shouted. “The water’s like gasoline!”

  The fire burst into an inferno—a superheated blaze that towered over their heads. Matt fell to his bottom and slid back from the scorching heat. Listener and Barlow joined him. In less than a minute, the fire consumed flesh, bones, and clothing, leaving a pile of dark ashes.

  Matt stared. Tears flowed. As his lips quivered, trembling words spilled out. “Lauren. My brave sister. Come back to me.”

  When the sizzles died away, the sound of a female clearing her throat interrupted the silence. Near the tree, Lauren sat cross-legged on the floor in the midst of a dark puddle. No
t a fragment of the statue remained. “Well …” She took in a deep breath. “That was a bizarre sight!”

  CHAPTER 3

  NEW WINGS

  Billy stopped the rickety bus next to an airport hangar and turned off the headlights. Darkness shrouded the area. The lack of security flood lamps and runway lights indicated that the airport’s generators had run out of fuel, which meant that the electricity grid might have collapsed some time ago. With no moon or stars visible above, darkness would rule for quite a while.

  As the engine ran with a mild clatter, he twisted in his seat and looked back. Bonnie sat in the bus’s first row, her eyes closed and her wings spread out over the side window and into the aisle. “Bonnie. Wake up.”

  She yawned and stretched her arms, her silhouette illuminated by the dashboard’s weak glow. “My turn to drive again?”

  “No. We’re running out of fuel, so I made a detour. We’re at an airport near St. Louis.”

  She blinked her bleary eyes. “Do they have fuel here?”

  “Not that I know of. Even if they do, there’s probably no power to pump it.” Billy reached back and held her hand. “Remember when Dad added a Learjet to his fleet? Mom and I came to this airport to get certified to pilot it.”

  “I remember.” Bonnie rose, scooted forward next to the driver’s seat, and crouched. “I couldn’t come with you because the twins were so young.”

  Billy nodded toward the hangar, though it was no longer visible without the headlights. “Oscar Mendez was the main pilot. Locals hired him to fly bigwigs around the region. I’m hoping the jet’s still here. If it is, Oscar’s sure to have kept it flight ready.”