Omega Dragon

by Bryan Davis

  A squall brought more ice pellets raining down in hefty gusts. At the edge of the forest, a branch cracked and fell against its trunk. Like dominoes toppling, more branches dropped and filled the breeze with wind-blown snaps and pops.

  Matt inhaled through his nose. The odor of garlic tinged the air. “I still smell the potion.”

  “So do I,” Listener said as they labored up a rise. “At least it hasn’t affected us yet.”

  “No obvious effect.” He kicked through a mound of oily crystals. “It might be a slow-acting poison.”

  She squinted. “Matt, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” Listener inhaled a deep breath. “Now that I have no companion, many things have changed inside me. I feel so different.”

  “In a good way?”

  “Most of the time, but I also feel regrets about the past. Whenever I was tempted to do something wrong, my companion would flash a warning, and I would cast away the temptation. Now I see what a weak condition that is. My companion was a crutch.” Her feet slid out from under her, but Matt tightened his grip on her arm and kept her from falling. She smiled thankfully. “Maybe I still need a crutch … physically, at least.”

  “So when you lost it temporarily back at the chasm, what did it feel like?”

  “Oh, Matt, those hours are the source of my fiercest regrets. I felt like a rudderless boat set adrift. I treated your father like a stranger, even though he was like a father to me when I was young. I even shot a man in cold blood.”

  “Didn’t you say that he threatened to shoot you?”

  “I did say that.” She tightened her grip on Matt’s arm and looked him in the eye. “I lied.”

  Lied? Matt forced his voice to stay calm. “Why?”

  As she looked again at the path ahead, her voice animated and rose in volume. “I don’t know! Anger? Revenge? The reaction of a hot-blooded fool? I just don’t know! If I had lied in Second Eden, I could have been punished by stoning or banishment, and my companion would have perished, but not so on Earth. My lie had no consequences except to burden my conscience with a millstone that I couldn’t shake loose.”

  “So losing your companion was like losing your moral compass.”

  “Exactly, but only while on Earth. In Second Eden I was able to do good things without being prodded by my companion. And now I never need prodding. Doing what’s right just flows from within me.”

  “So let me guess. You want to go back to Earth to test yourself.”

  Listener nodded. “I want to know if the good within me can stand up to the corruption of that place. I want to be a woman who is not forced to follow a path that is chosen by her external influences.”

  “I can’t blame you for that. That’s true freedom.”

  “And I especially want to apologize to your father. Since my real father is dead, I want Billy to take his place. I want our relationship to be like old times.” She returned her gaze to Matt. “Do you think he’d forgive me and be like my father again?”

  Matt shivered. Was the cold air finally getting to him? More likely the passing idea that his father could become Listener’s father-in-law and fulfill her wishes, but that was just a fantasy. “Of course he would. I don’t think he has a vindictive bone in his body.”

  “I agree. I just wanted some affirmation.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “There is something I am worried about.” She stopped and took her gloves off. “Are you sure you’re warm?” She covered his hands with her own and began rubbing. “Your fingers are freezing!”

  “My inner furnace runs on food. I guess I didn’t get enough.” Dark oily water dripped from her hair and down both cheeks. In spite of a mask of filth and a new cap of frozen ash, a radiant glow shone from within. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Here.” She began sliding her gloves over his hands. “Wear these for a while.”

  He pulled away. “Thanks for the thought, but you need them more than I do. My furnace will kick in soon.”

  Without another word, she put her gloves back on, hooked his arm, and resumed their march at a faster speed.

  Matt copied her rapid gait. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Matt, chivalry is usually a beautiful expression of gentlemanly character, but not when it is impractical or causes harm.” Listener kept her stare straight ahead. “I do wish to continue our stimulating conversation, but now is not the time.”

  “If you say so.” Matt eyed her face in profile—stoic and calm. She didn’t seem angry or irritated, but she certainly got her message across.

  For the next several minutes, they trudged over the gray terrain, most of the time without any new precipitation falling. They slid now and then, but their hooked arms helped maintain balance. After negotiating a slippery rise, they stopped at the crest. A new squall began. Wind and swirling ice buffeted their bodies.

  Ahead, the slope eased into level ground. A circular depression about fifty feet wide had been carved out of the ice, too deep to see the bottom, though flashes of orange light made it clear that a fire blazed below.

  Listener unfastened her spyglass and raised it to her eye. “I see flames but nothing else unusual. … Wait. … A man. No. More than one.” She refastened the spyglass, released Matt, and slid down the hill as if skiing. “Come on!”

  Matt followed and joined her at the edge of the depression. Here, the wall sloped sharply, about a ten-foot drop. At the center of the depression, five men surrounded a wood fire. All five lay or sat motionless in tall, lush grass exposed by melting ice.

  “I’m going in.” Listener dropped to her bottom and slid down the depression’s slope. Matt did the same. When their slide ended at the grassy area, she knelt next to a man lying on his stomach, his arms tucked underneath. Two others lay in a similar position, and two sat hunched over, covering something in their hands. No one moved.

  “What are these men doing?” Matt asked.

  “Protecting their companions.” Listener shifted toward a seated man—dark-skinned with frozen dreadlocks. “Candle!” She pried open his fingers and withdrew his egg-shaped companion. “What happened?”

  Candle looked at her blankly. An icicle hung from his nose, and tiny crystals clung to his lashes.

  She rubbed a thumb along the companion’s surface. Coated with ash, it lacked the usual glow.

  Matt leaned closer. “Is it dead?”

  “I don’t know.” She enfolded the companion in her coat. “They’re usually warm to the touch, but this one is like ice.”

  “I’ll get another.” Matt pried a companion loose from a prostrate man and rubbed it with both hands. The companion was cold and slick, and the oily residue wouldn’t come off. “Whatever this stuff is, it’s stuck like glue.”

  Listener rose and set her hands on her hips. “These men were probably out gathering wood for the others in the huts, and their companions iced over, which weakened them. Then they started a fire to keep from freezing, and the fire melted the ice down to grass level.”

  Matt pushed the companion back into the man’s grasp. “How’re we going to get them out of here?”

  “One at a time.” She pointed to the edge of the depression. “You can boost me out of this hole and then lift one of the men up to me. I’ll take him to the huts and come back for another.”

  Matt imagined the process. Listener had already proven herself strong enough to lift a man, and she could slide him on the ice the rest of the way. “Do you have medical help there?”

  “I’m sure Dr. Conner had to ground the mobile hospital somewhere, so he probably isn’t far.” Listener restored Candle’s companion to his grasp and pointed at another man. “Let’s take Steadfast. When he recovers, he’ll be a good medical aide.”

  “First let me see if my healing gift will help. Then maybe they can walk home.” Matt set his hands on Candle’s cheeks—stiff an
d chapped. As he concentrated on transmitting healing energy, new ice shards pelted the grass. A cold breeze buffeted Matt’s face and raised a new shiver. Seconds later, Candle’s limbs locked, and his body rocked in spasms.

  “He’s having a seizure!” Listener pulled Matt’s hands away, cupped Candle’s jaw, and looked into his mouth. “Just leave him alone for a minute. He’s not biting his tongue, so he should be all right.”

  Matt looked at his hands. What had gone wrong? Maybe his fingers were too cold, and the effect of his touch had somehow reversed.

  After another moment, Candle’s spasms stopped, his body relaxed, and he resumed a normal breathing pattern.

  Listener pulled Matt’s arm. “Help me get Steadfast.”

  After they carried Steadfast to the edge of the depression, Listener ran up the slope, slipping and sliding back a couple of times before digging in and clawing her way to the top. She then lay on her stomach and reached down. “Slide him up as far as you can.”

  Matt laid Steadfast on his back and pushed the soles of his boots. As he dug in and shoved Steadfast up the slope, the ice covering his body and clothes kept him from bending. Soon, his shoulders drew within range of Listener’s hands. She grabbed his coat and hauled him the rest of the way up.

  “Keep them warm!” she called as she turned and disappeared from sight. A pair of gloves sailed down in the wake of her voice. It seemed that Listener wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Matt put the gloves on, hurried back to Candle, and knelt next to him. The falling ice had diminished to a gentle drizzling of tiny pellets, making it easier to brush grimy fragments from his face. Head-high flames crackled at the center of the circle and lent warmth to the task.

  He set his ear close to Candle’s mouth. He was breathing, but barely. After transferring Listener’s gloves to Candle’s hands, Matt rose to his feet. The ice storm had stopped completely, though cold air continued swirling in the bowl.

  Looking in the direction Listener had gone, he monitored his danger sensor. A vague feeling of unease registered. With Second Edeners suffering and their companions freezing, it was no wonder. Yet, the sensation emanated from the village. Could it be real or just a phantom generated by concern for Listener? Or maybe the feeling had been there all along, hovering below the noticeable level.

  He paced in front of the fire. Waiting felt foolish. Every minute could cost lives. Yet abandoning the plan based on background danger signals felt like giving in to fear.

  As he continued pacing, the fire burned on, and the surrounding ice retreated. Grass sprouted in the newly exposed areas and grew an inch in a matter of seconds. One of the men fell to his back. His fingers loosened, and his companion rolled from his hand to the ground, dark and covered with soot.

  Matt scooped up the companion and brought it close to the flames. As residual water dripped from its surface, he scratched the soot with a thumbnail but couldn’t make a dent.

  Kneeling, Matt set his ear on the man’s chest. No heartbeat. No breathing. His face was already gray. Maybe he had been dead for a while.

  He hurried to another man, knelt, and checked his vital signs. Again, nothing. He leaped to a third man and lifted his arm—already stiff, no need to search for signs of life. Candle was the only one still alive.

  The sense of danger surged … nearby … closing in. Matt swiveled in place. Just a few steps away, grass poked through the remaining ice crystals along with gray stems that morphed into crawling vines. As green leaves sprouted, the vines slithered over the third corpse and crept up Matt’s legs.

  He shot to his feet, snapping the vines. They thickened and covered the dead body in seconds. The odor of ammonia tinged the air, pungent and choking. More vines sprang up and slinked over the other men, as if the warming ground had sounded a wake-up call.

  Matt broke the vines around Candle and dragged him away from the fire to an area still covered by ice. When he returned, the vines had completely engulfed the others. They grew thicker and thicker every second.

  He walked over the vines and stopped at one of the men. Balancing on top of the woody network, he thrust his hands under a vine and jerked upward, but it wouldn’t budge. A green shoot crawled up and around his leg in a tight coil. He fell backwards and rolled to the edge of the fire. The vines crept toward him, but when they drew to within inches of his toes, the ends shriveled and turned back, apparently thwarted by the heat.

  Matt vaulted up and ran to where Candle still lay, a foot or two from the growing mass. New vines broke through the edges of the ice and slithered. Only seconds remained before they would take over the entire area.

  After hoisting Candle over his shoulder, Matt backed toward the depression’s boundary. Climbing up the icy slope while carrying Candle might be impossible, but he had to try.

  He turned and kicked a toe of his boot into the wall, then, with one arm around Candle’s legs, he clawed at the ice and vaulted himself up a few inches. The foothold broke, sending them both tumbling and rolling to within inches of the encroaching vines.

  Matt scrambled to his feet and shouted toward the village. “Listener! Where are you?” The words echoed, fading with each repetition.

  Again and again he shouted. The vines drew closer, looking like an army of green serpents. Finally, a feminine voice filtered in from above. “Matt?”

  He looked toward the source of the call. No one was in sight. “Down here!”

  A slender brunette appeared at the lip of the depression, her hands at the edge as she looked down. Her face, pale and narrow, seemed kind and concerned. “I am … Tamara.”

  Matt heaved Candle over his shoulder again. “Did Listener send you?”

  Tamara nodded. “She needs you.” She pivoted and looked back. “Trouble in village.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Her lips formed a tight line. “Hard to … explain.”

  “Never mind. I just have to get out of here.” Matt edged away from the vines. They had now covered nearly everything with a tangle of foliage at least four feet high. Only the central fire and a narrow swath of ice at the depression’s perimeter remained unaffected.

  Tamara reached down. “Can you … lift Candle?”

  Matt mentally measured the distance. Heat from the fire had melted the ice on Candle’s body, making him more limber, so pushing him that far would be impossible. And Tamara didn’t look half as strong as Listener. “I doubt it. And I tried climbing. I can’t get a foothold.”

  “Soon … much easier.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She pointed. “They help … you climb.”

  Matt looked back. A vine crawled over the thinning ice and wrapped around his ankle. He jerked away, again snapping the wood. More vines slithered around his feet. With Candle over a shoulder, he high stepped in place to stay on top of the growing mass.

  As the network grew and his stationary march continued, he slowly elevated. When he rose high enough, Tamara grabbed Candle’s wrists and pulled while Matt pushed until they hoisted him out of the depression.

  Using the vines as a springboard, Matt vaulted to the lip and slid across the ice. When his momentum eased, he hurried to Tamara, who now knelt beside Candle and blew on his clutched companion. Wearing only a long dark skirt and a thin sweater, she had to be cold.

  “Let’s get him to the village.” Matt again hoisted Candle over his shoulder and looked at Tamara. “If you’ll lead the way.”

  “Of course.” She wrapped her sweater tightly and trudged ahead over the ash-embedded ice. “This way.”

  Matt stayed close behind. With every step, his legs ached, the danger sensation increased, and Candle seemed to grow heavier. Images of carrying Lauren’s corpse came to mind—her limp body, her pallid face, her blue lips. Where was she now? Was Sir Barlow keeping her safe? Yet, how could he keep a dead person safe?

  His focus on Tamara, he struggled up a ridge, slickened by gray ice. Candle’s weight
helped his shoes break through and gain traction, but the burden made his legs tremble.

  Tamara grasped his wrist and pulled. “Almost there!” Puffing, she jerked with extra force and heaved Matt to the crest.

  As in the other village, at least a dozen roofs protruded from the expansive sheet of gray. Smoke rose from exposed pipes on most of the icy tops.

  “Come!” She hurried to a nearby hut, more than half buried in ice, and touched its gray-topped roof. “Listener … is here.”

  Matt jogged the rest of the way, laid Candle next to the gap between the ice and the hut, then hopped down and looked through the window. Listener knelt in the midst of several reclining Second Edeners—two men, three women, and five children. Her coat lay over two toddlers as they rested across the room from the fire. One of the children, perhaps a teenager, had white hair that reached his shoulders.

  Listener held a companion in her hand and stroked it as she leaned close to a fire burning within a hearth in the wall. Matt whispered, “Listener. It’s me, Matt. I brought Candle.”

  She set the companion down on a woman’s chest and tiptoed around the bodies. As she drew closer, tears in her eyes became evident as well as wet ashes embedded in her swaying pigtails and soot smeared across her cheeks. She reached her arms through the window and grasped his hands. “Come in! Come in!”

  “Just a second.” He looked up. Tamara stood at the edge of the gap. “Can you guide Candle down here?”

  “Yes.” She moved out of sight for a moment. Candle’s feet slowly slid into the gap. Matt grabbed his ankles and guided him the rest of the way.

  Listener reached through and pulled Candle while Matt pushed. After a few moments, Matt and Tamara made their way inside and laid Candle near the fire. Shivering, Matt stayed close to the flames and warmed his hands.

  Listener picked up a wicker basket from the floor. “Here.” She set it close to Matt. “Eat as many as you can. We have to stoke that furnace.”

  “Thanks.” From a pyramid of sandwich wraps, he selected the two on top. Each consisted of white-meat paste enclosed in a dark green leaf. He took a hearty bite from one and chewed. The leaf crunched easily, and the paste tasted like fish in buttery cream.