Raising Dragons

by Bryan Davis

  The battle theater told Bonnie the whole story. She knew exactly what was going on. That has to be Devin, the sparkle is the candlestone, and the dragon must be—Wow!

  She flew in a circle and looked for a place to dive in to help, but what could she do? Oh, no! The dragon is down!

  Devin walked toward the thrashing dragon, the point of his sword leading the way. Clefspeare lay on his side, convulsing and trying hopelessly to slap his attacker with his tail. Devin pricked Clefspeare’s belly with the sword and stepped up, ready to thrust.

  Bonnie dove, folding her wings in again to force herself into a vertical free fall. Just before she reached the ground she spread her wings and pulled up, screaming in pain. Devin jerked around, and she rammed into him, shoulder to shoulder, smashing him to the leafy floor. Bonnie hit the ground in a scraping slide, rolling over and over away from the slayer. She sat up, dizzy and stunned, and she tried to stare through her foggy vision to see if she had saved the dragon.

  The slayer lay on his back, groaning, and he sat up slowly, shaking his head. He stared stupidly at his sword, which was now lying on the ground, and he turned to look at the deathly still dragon. He got up on his knees and crawled toward the sword, his hands sliding through the leaves.

  Bonnie knew there was no time to lose. She had to stop him, but her head throbbed and she could hardly move. Like the slayer, Bonnie had to crawl on her hands and knees, but with one knee aching she had to scramble along, using her sore wings to keep her knee off the ground. She reached the slayer just as he grabbed the hilt of his sword. She knew she could never fight a man of his size and training, so she lunged for his chest and snatched the candlestone, breaking the necklace and pulling it away. She covered the stone with one hand and tried to pull her body forward as she desperately scratched at the ground.

  What’s wrong? I’m not moving.

  Bonnie fell to her stomach and rolled to her side to look. The slayer had a death grip on her ankle, and his nails dug into her skin like sharp, dirty knives. His evil eyes glowed. He dragged her back, his sword in his other hand, ready to strike.

  Bonnie pushed herself up to her knees, crying in pain as her weight pressed on her injury and the stone burned in her palm like a heated coal. She threw the necklace as far as she could, and the sparkling stone bounced off a tree trunk and then down into a wide rainwater trench.

  The slayer released her ankle and sprang to his feet, never taking his eyes from where the stone had landed. With his chain mail jangling, he stumbled like a clattering drunkard toward the trench, his sword dropping to the ground behind him. Falling to his knees, he scattered the leaves with both hands, frantically searching for his precious stone.

  Bonnie, still feeling dizzy and her head pulsating, stood up and staggered toward the slayer’s sword. She leaned over and grabbed the hilt with both hands. The sword was heavier than she expected, and being weakened from her fall and from holding the candlestone, she could barely lift it to an attack position. She held it with the point straight up and stood between the slayer and the dragon. She had to protect him. The slayer might still have a knife or something hidden in his armor, so she couldn’t simply fly away with the sword even if she had enough strength to pull off an escape.

  Rising to his feet with his left hand clenched, Devin turned toward Clefspeare, a sinister grin crossing his face. He looked at Bonnie and laughed disdainfully.

  Did he find the candlestone? Is he holding it in his fist?

  She took a deep breath and stood firm, her lips stiff and her eyes stoic, the sword extended with her elbows locked in place. Her knee ached horribly, but she couldn’t afford to let the slayer know that.

  The slayer crept toward her, a confident smirk lifting his bruised cheek, making him look like a stalking monster. As he approached, Bonnie slid one foot forward to keep her balance. She felt her own heartbeat, blood pumping through her head and knee, squeezing bullets of pain through her vessels. She took a deep breath and waited, silently praying with all her might.

  Devin rushed forward, and Bonnie swung the blade. The slayer dodged underneath her arms, and with a lowered shoulder he crashed into her chest, falling headlong over her body. She slammed against the ground, thumping heavily on her rear, and slid over to her left side. The rocky ground ripped flesh from her rib cage and from her left arm, elbow, and cheek, but she kept her fierce grip on the sword.

  Using her wings for lift, Bonnie hustled back to her feet and took to the air. She spotted Devin rising to his knees and flew closer to Clefspeare to reposition herself between him and the slayer. With dirty leaves smeared across her bleeding face, she once again held out the sword and planted her feet.

  Now the metal blade was no longer a hopeful weapon; it was an anvil, an anchor that weighed down her failing arms. Ripping peals of agony roared through every limb. The slayer rose from the ground, his evil smile and piercing eyes mocking her as he lowered his shoulder again and took a step forward for another attack. Bonnie tried to steel herself. Her arms quaked. Her knees threatened to buckle. Through wet, trembling lips she prayed aloud in tearful entreaty.

  “Oh, God . . . please help me. . . . I—I can’t hold out much longer.”

  Devin stopped and rose to his full height. He put his hands on his hips and snorted. “A dragon girl praying?” He pointed a gloved finger at her, his yellow-green eyes seeming to penetrate to her soul. “God can’t love a miserable creature like you.”

  A single tear tracked down Bonnie’s dirty cheek to her quivering chin, but her determined gaze stayed riveted on her attacker’s every move.

  Devin crouched again. Bonnie drew in a deep breath and lifted the sword even higher, ready to strike. She could almost feel the slayer’s blazing eyes burn through her skull. With a sudden vault, he charged forward. She closed her eyes, aimed for where she thought his head would be, and swung the blade. Instead of a thud or a scream of pain, she heard a swish as if the sword had barely managed a weak swipe through the air.

  She opened her eyes expecting to see the slayer lunging at her again, but the weight of the sword had spun her backwards. She whirled around to find her enemy. There he was, crouching, cowering on the carpet of rotting leaves. Had she hit him and somehow not felt the blow? She stared at the sword. It no longer felt heavy, and she carried it easily in her outstretched arms. From its tip a dazzling beam shot high into the sky, disappearing into the blue.

  Feeling a surge of energy, Bonnie pointed the sword at the slayer, ready to defend herself once more. The beam shifted, casting its light across his brow, and a shimmering, translucent curtain materialized between them.

  The color in the slayer’s face melted away, and his mouth dropped open. The flashing light seemed to come alive, wrapping itself around him like a sparkling swarm of hornets. He squirmed as though struggling to escape from a straightjacket while the flashing mantle grew brighter and brighter. Within seconds, the whole scene transformed into a shining white blaze. Bonnie blinked hard. She had to keep watching. How else could she know what the slayer might do next?

  After a few more blinks, her vision became a sheet of pulsating spots. She could see the ground and then the trees, but where was the slayer? She swiveled her head, craning to look in every direction, but he was nowhere in sight.

  When the spots finally disappeared, she turned toward the place where the slayer had stood. A few remaining sparkles of light danced above a dark pile of rubble, and they twinkled, as if trying to tell her what had happened. They spun around a single point and then disappeared, like water swirling into a drain. On the ground lay the candlestone, bright and shining, no longer attached to its necklace.

  With the sword still in her left hand, Bonnie flapped her wings and lunged toward the sparkling point. She scooped it up in her right hand with one quick motion. It felt like a bauble of pure poison, draining her energy like a blood-sucking leech. As she drew her arm back, hot needles stung her palm, as though the stone had sprouted vampire teeth and plunged them in
to her skin. She flung it into the woods and watched the glittering rock streak like a meteor into the shadows.

  Bonnie stood in place, wondering if she should try to remember where the stone landed, but she couldn’t bear the pain any longer. She dropped the sword next to the rubble, a mound of crumpled chain mail and a shield that had once enveloped the slayer. The strange glow had vanished, and through a gap in the trees the sun cast a ray upon her. “Oh, God, thank you,” she prayed, her voice breaking. “I—I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

  Her wings set her down gently, and she sat and cried, the horrible pain combining with her sense of relief to bring flowing tears. A crushing burden still remained, however; what could she do to get help for a dying dragon?

  A low rumble sounded from behind her. “O brave, brave lass. Your faith has saved us both.”

  Her wings snatched her to her feet and spun her around, but she stayed back. “Clefspeare?” she called, her voice trembling.

  The dragon lifted its head up and down. “Yes, most blessed one.”

  Bonnie raised her hand to touch him, but she withdrew it and backed away a step.

  “Do not be frightened, child. It is I, Billy’s father. I have changed in form but not in spirit.”

  Bonnie’s wings fluttered to help her balance. “I . . . I know. It’s just that—”

  “Speak, child. What is your fear?”

  Bonnie drooped her head. She felt like a worm for doubting, but she just had to ask. “Did you really burn up a merchant named Andrew just because he had no payment for your work?”

  The dragon’s eyes closed for a moment, and when they reopened, they seemed more lucid. “I did kill such a man, and it is true that he could not pay, but it was not for this that I attacked him. He sought to obtain his payment by stealing from the daughter of a nobleman. Disguised as a highwayman, he attacked her right after sunset, and I happened to be overhead. In rescuing the maiden, I disposed of the thief.”

  Bonnie felt her fears melt away. “Oh! Devin didn’t give me the details.”

  “Devin told you the story? I wonder how that phony could have heard it.”

  “Phony? Because he thinks he’s a knight?”

  “Yes, lass. No true knight would threaten children and take unfair advantages, using that cursed stone as a weapon.”

  She smiled and then laughed, wiping away her tears. “And old Devin’s not so brave when he’s not wearing his candlestone, is he? Did he run away? What did you do to scare him? Did you shoot some flame toward him? I couldn’t see what happened.”

  The dragon, still lying on his side, stretched his neck to get as close to Bonnie as he could. “I blew no flame; I was too weak. I could only watch you defend me and listen to your prayers.”

  “Then what scared him away? Was it that strange glow? It was too bright to see anything.”

  “I merely raised my head. When you threw the stone away, a sliver of strength returned. If he ran in fear, then perhaps it was because he could tell I was recovering, but that seems unlikely. I, too, was blinded, so I can only guess. I suggest that we allow the mystery to remain and just be thankful.”

  Bonnie bowed her head, and Clefspeare rose to a sitting position. “Have you seen my son?”

  “No. I looked for him, but I didn’t see him anywhere.”

  “He was tied to a tree, and I freed him. I was so weak, I could not fight them and protect him at the same time, so I tried to lead them away. Devin followed me, but he had one black knight remaining who did not follow. I fear that he had murder in his heart.”

  Bonnie’s wings fluttered, lifting her a foot or two off the ground. “We’ll have to find him, and fast. Can you fly?”

  “Not yet. My strength is coming back, but slowly. Take the sword, find my son, and bring word back to me if you can. Even if Devin reappears, he cannot harm me without the candlestone or his weapon.”

  Bonnie flew the short distance to the dragon and hugged his neck. “So is the prophecy fulfilled?”

  “One thing remains,” he said. “But you must go. All will be explained in time.”

  Bonnie pulled away, grabbed the sword, and flapped her wings, sending her body zooming upward. Her strength renewed, she found the sword more manageable, though it had regained much of its former weight. She glanced back at Clefspeare and wished she could wave, but she dared not take a hand off the sword. She just smiled at him and then flew across the tops of the trees, searching the slopes for any sign of movement. She decided to head back toward the cars, hoping that Billy might be somewhere along the way.

  As she flew, the sword grew heavier and heavier, weighing her down, forcing her to fly lower. She tried to shift her grip on the hilt in order to reposition the sword. Maybe I can put it on my back somehow or— The sword slipped away and hurtled toward the ground. Oh, no! Within seconds it disappeared through the treetops. Should I chase it? No, I don’t have time! I have to find Billy!

  She kept flying as fast as her aching wings would take her.

  Surely the slayer will never find it, and I don’t think it’ll hurt anything if I just leave it way out here. I hope nobody was down there. At the speed it fell, it could’ve killed someone.

  After a few minutes, she spotted something. Two men? Yes! Yes! It’s Walter and Professor Hamilton, and Billy’s on a sled between them!

  Bonnie could tell they were nearing the bottom of the ridge and would be back at the car in a few minutes. She stayed close to the treetops and passed the rescuers. She saw Mr. Foley waiting by the car in the distance, so she dove quickly and landed back where she had started over half an hour before. Bonnie pulled her coat and backpack from under the leaves. She knew she was supposed to report to Clefspeare when she found Billy, but that would have to wait until later, at least until she knew his condition. When she pulled the backpack’s zipper closed, she called out while pulling on the coat. “Walter! Professor! Can you hear me?”

  “Bonnie?” a surprised Walter called back. “Is that you?”

  “Yes!” She waved when Walter and the professor came in sight. They hurried toward her, arriving with gasping breaths, and slid Billy’s litter in front of her.

  She limped to Billy’s side and tried to kneel, but the pain was too much, so she braced herself with her left hand and caressed his bloody cheek. His eyes were closed, his skin ice cold even to her frigid fingers.

  “Bonnie,” Walter huffed, “what are you doing here?”

  She lifted her head. “Your father and I came to try to find Billy. He’s waiting next to the station wagon.” She looked down at Billy again and then up at the Professor. “How badly is he hurt?”

  The professor held out his car keys and pointed to the landscape in front of them. “Walter, can you push the shield around that bend? It’s downhill about a hundred meters after that. Please ask your father to warm up my car.” He reached one hand down toward Bonnie. “I’ll help Miss Silver.”

  Walter didn’t hesitate. He snatched the keys and, digging his feet into the ground, scooted the shield down the path.

  The professor lifted Bonnie to her feet, put his arm around her, and helped her stand. “Your face is bleeding! What happened to you?”

  “Never mind me. What about Billy?”

  “His injury is very serious. That’s why we cannot stop.”

  “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine. Just send Mr. Foley back to get me.”

  The professor nodded and ran ahead. In seconds he disappeared around the bend. Bonnie tried to walk, but it was no use. Between her aching knee and throbbing head, she couldn’t go on; she would have to sit and wait. Within a minute or so, Mr. Foley came running up the path, and, without a word, he helped Bonnie onto his back again and trudged slowly toward their parking place.

  When they arrived at Mr. Foley’s car, the professor’s station wagon was already gone. After helping Bonnie get seated, Mr. Foley started the engine and turned the heater on full blast. “I can see tire tracks,” he said, getting out of the
car again and pointing toward a secondary path. “My car would never make it up there, so I’ll follow the tracks on foot to see if I can find Marilyn. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Bonnie just nodded and watched Mr. Foley lumber away. She put her stiff fingers in front of the vent. The warming jet thawed them enough to return blood flow and with it, throbbing pain. It was a good pain, enabling her to bend her knuckles and flex her hands.

  She yawned and laid her head against the window, trying to sleep in the soothing warmth. She was too tired to worry about any dangers—the slayer, the dark knight, or the candlestone. Only one thought kept her in prayer, Billy’s condition. He looked awful, like a frozen corpse being shuttled home on a failed shield, a dead hero returning from battle.

  Bonnie alternated between dozing and wakeful prayer for what seemed like half an hour until a new noise roused her senses. An SUV rumbled down a mountain path in her direction, its wheels spinning and biting into leaves, dirt, and snow. When it arrived, Mr. Foley jumped out, and the truck zoomed away. Bonnie caught a glimpse of Billy’s mom driving the SUV as she passed by. Her face looked worried, tired, and scared.

  Mr. Foley got in the driver’s seat and started the car down the unpaved forest road. He turned to Bonnie, who stared straight ahead, leaning forward to make room for her backpack. She grimaced, wondering what Mr. Foley must have thought of her. Her forehead and cheeks had tightened with drying mud, tears, and blood. She probably looked like a frozen street urchin.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No, not anymore.” She sniffed and choked back a sob.

  “The hospital’s not real far. I’m sure the professor and Walter got Billy there in time.”

  Her throat tightened, and her voice squeaked. “I hope so,” was all she could manage.

  Mr. Foley slowed to ease over a very large bump and then stopped on the deserted road. He pulled out a clean handkerchief and tried to wipe a clump of dirt from beneath Bonnie’s left eye. “What did you do all that time after I left you?” he asked gently.

  “I’d rather not say.” Bonnie couldn’t hold it back any longer. She started crying and buried her face in her hands.