Blood of the Dragon

by Jay D Pearson

  He nodded. “I need to make a gateway up there and another one right here. I need to fix the barrier.”

  “Stay close behind us, boy,” ordered Balor, “until we cross through whatever is causing that pink glow. After that, stay back but within sight.”

  “What about Aileen and Àibell?” he asked.

  Balor grimaced.

  “They are my responsibility. Finaarva and Månefè are your mother’s until my family is safe. If possible, I will send them to you. Hagr, you must be ready to protect them.”

  “Milord, the lady. I tried so hard to please her, but she does not like me.”

  “I don’t like you, Hagr, but now I must trust you. Prove yourself worthy, and I will owe you a boon.”

  The leprechaun clapped his hands and twirled a little jig.

  “I will show you, milord! A mighty boon you will want to give me.”

  Balor’s lips curled tightly and his wings tensed, but he simply nodded.

  “It is time, then,” the faery said, glancing at Wu Zhao. She turned to Miguel, bending her head close.

  “Whatever happens, Miguel, I love you with all my heart. Should I not make it back, be sure to tell your father and Carlos that. Always tell Isabel how much her mother loved her.”

  “Mom!” he said. “We can do this!” He tried to wrap his arms around her neck but could only reach partway.

  Suddenly, she pulled away, glancing towards the pink glow.

  “They come, Balor. Quickly, Miguel, hold the Dragon Pearl up.”

  As he obeyed, she extended a talon in her right hand. Miguel nearly jumped at the sight of it, so long and sharp, then gave a light cry as she sliced the palm of her left hand with the talon. A thin line of blood rose and she placed her hand on the pearl so that the blood smeared.

  Instantly, he could feel life within the Dragon Pearl. Her blood soaked in, the stone absorbing it as if parched for drink. As his mother’s blood sank deeper, the pearl began to throb as if a heart pulsed deep inside. The iridescent gleam began to glow, ignited by the blood of the dragon. His own magic leaped from his fingertips, purple lightning that crackled over the pearl before it was consumed.

  His consciousness followed his magic down into the maze inside the pearl. Two years ago on their family trip to Hawaii’s big island, his father had taken he and Carlos on a tour of the lava tubes at Volcanos National Park. The round, red, rough walls of the maze instantly reminded him of those tubes. The walls seemed not of any stone he recognized, but more like meat or flesh that glowed of its own accord, pulsing in time with his own heart. The tubes were not static, either, but constantly constricting or dilating. He had a sense this alien reality had formed itself into shapes and sensations his mind could comprehend, that his mind would collapse if it experienced the Dragon Pearl’s reality as it truly appeared.

  As he wound through the maze, he realized it was an array, like a puzzle for him to decipher. He wriggled through gaps before they could close or pierced barriers that rose up to block his path. Inward and downward he soared. Some paths were dead ends, but he could sense the beating heart of the stone, and it tugged at him, guided him as he poured his magic further in and further down.

  Vaguely he could hear voices coming from the distant reality of the faery prison where his body actually existed. He recognized his mother crying his name, but he could not stop. Freedom soared through him, the same freedom he had felt riding on his mother’s back.

  “Miguel!” Balor shouted, but his mentor’s voice was remote and gurgled, as if he was swimming underwater. He wondered if he should pop his head up for a breath.

  He heard the click of a bolt. His magic whizzed around a corner of the maze and banged into another dead end. No, he realized, not a dead end. A door. The door to the heart of the Dragon Pearl. It appeared to be made of dark wood, banded with iron straps, and rounded at the top, reminding him very much of the entrance to St. Augustine Cathedral in Tucson. He banged on it, trying to will it to open, but it had been sealed from the other side. There was a wicked laugh from behind the door. Something—or someone—had beaten him to the heart…and the secret of the Dragon Pearl’s magic.

  “Miguel!” came his mother’s voice. He opened his eyes and was instantly back in the reality of the faery prison. Thirty or so faeries encircled them and he froze until he spotted the first faery they had met.

  “This is all?” Balor was asking angrily as Miguel’s consciousness returned.

  The other faery nodded.

  “The rest that are left are either too weak or serve the king. There are not many of either, Lord Changeling. But Finaarva knows you are here. He is coming.”

  Miguel glanced towards the pink glow. It was moving or expanding towards them, translucent as frosted glass. Beyond he could see the dark shape of a towering winged figure, a black shadow with a tall crown. There were no visible features or even a face except for eyes that glowed with a red flame that emanated hatred and evil.

  Then the shadow laughed. It was the same howl that had somehow emanated from the heart of the Dragon Pearl.

  Chapter 30

  The Blood of the Dragon

  His mother roared and her belly glowed.

  “Miguel!” Balor shouted, purplish lightning crackling on his fingertips. “Your time is now. Hagr! Your magic!”

  Fire exploded from his mother’s mouth, incinerating the hedge, and the faeries closest scrambled to escape the heat even as she rushed through the smoldering ruins towards the shadowy figure. Her belly glowed again, now bright white, and a fireball whooshed towards the pink glow.

  Miguel realized the glow was some sort of magical dome protecting whatever evil creature was behind it. Fissures ran along the dome as the fireball struck but faded quickly. Balor’s lightning struck the same spot and a spider web like a cracked windshield spread. They too faded, though not as quickly.

  “Child!” hissed Hagr from beside him. “Use the Dragon Pearl!”

  He glanced down at the leprechaun. Its bulbous orange eyes gleamed with desire, staring at the iridescent white stone glowing in his hands. It truly seemed an enormous pearl now. He risked one more glance as his mother and Balor attacked the pink dome. The shadowy figure fought back. He briefly wondered if there really was a connection between the figure and whatever had laughed at him from the heart of the pearl, then dove with his magic, his consciousness following it back into the stone.

  The maze was easier to navigate this time, but the curved red walls pulsed with a new resistance, forcing him to thrust and joust with his magic at every turn or dip. There was another presence in the maze somewhere ahead of him, a dark other magic that did not fit, racing him to the heart. He was vaguely aware of his mother’s roars and the heat of her fireballs in the other reality; each burst from his mother coordinated with a sudden weakening of the other magic, allowing him to spurt or spin through.

  “Faster, child!” Hagr squawked, startling him briefly out of his magical consciousness. The cracks and crevices in the pink dome were no longer fading. Encouraged, he returned to the maze, only to find he’d lost three or four levels. He struck at the other magic with a barrage, hoping to burrow straight through to the strange door, but his magic rebounded and only his quick reflexes, honed by hours of video gameplay, saved him.

  He returned to patient plodding, even though he could sense a need for urgency. Inexorably, he worked past the traps and false trails the other magic was laying for him, but knew if he did not hurry, he would reach the Dragon Pearl’s heart too late.

  A scream shattered the forest and he opened his eyes. The dome had been breached and its pink color lost. His mother beat at the hole with her tail, battering it while Balor fired one lightning strike after another into the rupture. Green flames shot back, his mentor protected only by his mother’s wings. They were singed black and Miguel cringed, nauseous at the sight, and returned to his magic, determined to open the door of the pearl’s heart.

  The other magic seemed distracted, or els
e he had broken enough of its defenses, and he finally reached the bolted wooden door. He attacked it with a fury, battering it as his mom had attacked the dome, but no matter how hard he struck, nothing seemed to affect it.

  A second scream rent the air, yanking his attention away from the door once more. Aileen’s voice carried in the cry and he glanced wildly about. There was no sign of the dome. Instead, a thick, pale green fog crept along the ground like moldy dry ice, hiding his mom’s and Balor’s feet. Opposite them towered two enormous creatures, one twice Balor’s height and the other only a head shorter. They appeared to be elongated faeries, and he immediately realized the taller shape was the black shadow he’d seen earlier.

  They may have once been faeries—the wings reminded him of Àibell’s butterfly wings—but their skin was sickly green like a poisoned plant and their red eyes burned, glowing unnaturally. The taller wore a gold crown, but the prongs looked worn like weathered bronze. Both were as muscular as MMA fighters, the cords of their arms and chests taut as if straining to win the championship belt. They may have been handsome once, but their faces were now so twisted by hate and scarred by evil that any further resemblance to Balor had long since fled.

  Out of the murky fog, pallid hands and feet stuck up at odd angles, green viscous strands trailing like seaweed. He had no doubt they were faeries of some sort and was glad he could not see their faces. He wondered briefly if they had died serving the two giant faeries or running from them.

  The fog clawed at the feet of his mother and Balor, pale green fingers creeping slowly up their shins like leeches before tumbling back into the vapor. Each wisp that fell seemed fuller of light somehow, as if it had sucked life or magic out of his mother or Balor. The wisps then raced ant-like back to the giant faeries, fingers of pulsing Christmas lights that leaped onto the faeries’ legs and sank into their skin. As they absorbed each pulse, the two faeries grew taller and their muscles more defined.

  Then he spotted Aileen and Àibell floating in a dark, diaphanous bubble a short way behind the faeries. Àibell had collapsed to her knees. Aileen’s face was as he’d seen in the vision: pale and her long hair plastered against her face and cheeks. Her mottled skin was nearly as translucent as the first faery he’d seen, her veins beginning to show. Fingers of fog wriggled across the bubble-like centipedes seeking entrance. These pulsed also but lacked the vigor and brightness of the fog sucking at his mother and Balor.

  Rage flooded him, and fear as well. Without hesitation, he plunged back into his magic, which flared like a beast unleashed. He was as confident as when he’d played Donkey Kong that day at the arcade. All resistance of the other magic fled. There were no more mistaken turnings and he easily blasted apart every barrier the other magic erected, certain now the other magic belonged to one or both evil faeries.

  By the time he reached the bolted door, he knew he could unlock it. He recalled how the magic had escaped him at the end of Donkey Kong. He recognized his error. This time, he would not fail.

  His power slammed into the lock, jarring the other magic. It had not been ready for him. By the time it struck back, it was too late. His rage did not open the lock; it blew the entire doorway apart, disintegrating it into floating motes of light, and he roared through.

  The Dragon Pearl’s heart was an oblong cavern, its red, fleshy walls rounded with narrow ribs running from the floor to the ceiling far above. The light was brighter here but pulsed irregularly.

  Two green, obese roots snaked out of the ceiling and attached themselves with maggoty tendrils to the inner walls of the heart. The heart’s flesh where each tendril attached was raw, grey, and sickly, a disease spreading as the roots continued to expand like vines. At first, he did not fathom what the vines could be in the pearl’s alien reality, until he saw the wounds were fresh from a trap recently sprung. Somehow, the two faeries had set this snare after capturing Aileen and her mother. They had expected the Dragon Pearl’s arrival and readied the other magic that followed him into the stone. He needed to sever the roots before he could free Aileen or defeat the two faeries.

  As his blood began to hum, he recalled his failure at Donkey Kong. He had been unable to halt his power in the arcade before it overwhelmed him; this time he paused, making certain of his choice and determining where to slice the root. He studied the tendrils, noticing how they throbbed, somehow siphoning power from the Dragon Pearl and feeding that magic to Finaarva and Månefè. His used his fear for Aileen and her mother to form a sharp blast of air and struck the first root. Instantly, all the tendrils retracted from the walls like dominos falling and the root flailed. The tendrils wriggled, frantic and confused. He released his rage, shearing them from the root, which squirmed and writhed defenseless in the air. He opened his mouth. Fire spewed out in a torrent, igniting the root as easily as paper until it was nothing more than floating dust motes.

  A third scream rent the air, again pulling his consciousness back. He struggled to focus until he spotted his mother roaring, wings fully expanded, as she flung herself at the two faeries, her rear legs with talons extended diving at the taller of the two.

  Both faeries attacked her, their green lightning striking her over and over, scorching her crimson scales and wings. The fog and the bubble imprisoning Aileen and Àibell were both gone. His mother’s fierce attack allowed Balor to race past towards his wife and daughter. Aileen had her arm around her mother, helping her to stand. However, as Balor reached them, one of the faeries twisted, raising its hands as if to attack all three.

  Rage and fear flooded through him and the blast of air he released was more indiscriminate than he’d intended, knocking down not only the enormous green faery, but Balor, Aileen, and Àibell as well. He tried again. This time a shield formed between them and their assailant. Balor and Aileen scrambled up, both grabbing one of Àibell’s arms and dragging her towards him.

  His mother did not hesitate, scorching the fallen faery with a fireball. It tumbled over and over, its skin blackened and wings torn. It was quickly back on its feet, shrieking and spreading its wings. Char fell from its skin and its wings knitted together. It threw its head back and howled.

  Instantly, Miguel submerged back into the Dragon Pearl, soaring to the heart in less than a beat, certain the key to defeating the faeries lay here. His blood hummed at the sight of the remaining root. Fresh tendrils sprouted. With one sweep, he sheared them off, leaving raw wounds on the root. Screams tugged at him, but he knew they were distractions to keep him away from this place, the exact spot where he needed to be. He focused on the root again, pouring his magic into the lesions. The root thrashed, blindly bashing the walls. His magic became a deluge. The flailing grew less and he pressed harder, suffocating it.

  The root fell limp, discharge oozing out like phlegm. He ignited it and opened his eyes, returning to the faery reality. Aileen and Àibell both kneeled nearby, palms on the ground and faces down, gasping. Balor hunched beside them, one hand on his wife’s back.

  “Hagr!” his mentor shouted. “Get them out of here! Return them to our reality!”

  “Milord! The pearl! It was promised to me!”

  “And I swore I would owe you a boon if you kept my family safe! Do this and you will have earned that boon!”

  Miguel watched the leprechaun’s face as desire for the Dragon Pearl battled with desire for the promised reward. The latter won out. Hagr nodded and took hold of each woman.

  Aileen lifted her head and gave him a wan smile. Then she, Hagr, and her mother were gone. Balor grabbed him. Weariness had burrowed deep creases in the corners of the faery’s eyes.

  “Well done, boy. But the battle isn’t over. Do whatever you need to do, just get those gates open and fix the barrier. Understand?” Miguel nodded.

  “Good. Once you do that, get yourself out of here. Don’t wait for us. We will make certain Finaarva and Månefè don’t escape.”

  “I’m not leaving you or my mother behind!”

  “Boy…”

 
; “I’ll find a way, but you’ve got to help my mom!” When Balor hesitated, he waved a hand. “Go! I’ll be fine!”

  The faery pursed his lips, then nodded and rose, pausing long enough for a deep breath before rushing back into battle. Miguel risked a glance.

  His mother’s wings smoldered in several places, tiny green flames crackling at the edges of holes in the membranes. Many of her crimson scales were blackened and her fireballs were smaller. Finaarva and Månefè, however, had shrunk almost to human size since he had destroyed the roots. He sensed they could no longer stop him, but his mom and Balor were weakening rapidly.

  He was about to plunge once more into the Dragon Pearl when he recalled what his mom had said about his blood, and what she had done, smearing her blood over the pearl. He glanced at his own hands then decided he had to try. He raised his right hand, aiming towards his left palm with his fingers, then shot magic at it. He yelped as a single strand of lightning stung his palm but did nothing more. A blast of concentrated air did even less.

  He glanced up. The attacks were decreasing as the combatants staggered wearily like heavyweights at the end of a long bout. He peeked over his shoulder. He’d forgotten about the faeries who he was supposed to help escape. They huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. They knew their fate if he failed. He ran to them, leaving the pearl on the ground.

  “A knife! Do any of you have a knife?” he yelled frantically. They shied back as one. “Please!”