Blood of the Dragon

by Jay D Pearson

  Balor frowned. “That isn’t like him. What is he up to, I wonder?”

  “Father…” Aileen began, pushing away from her dad. “What are you? Or Miguel? Am I seriously the only human here?”

  Miguel started. He’d never heard her sound frightened. He wished he could be the one to comfort her, but he was at a loss for words. Am I human? he wondered.

  “What was that place?” she asked when no one answered her. “Mom said it was a place of evil magic. That king…the way he stared at me…”

  Her mom pulling her into her own arms, stroking her daughter’s orange hair. “Hush, baby, it’s over,” she whispered, kissing her hair.

  Balor turned to him. “What did you do with them, Miguel? Finaarva and Månefè?”

  Miguel walked over to the Dragon Pearl. It no longer moved and its glow had faded, but he could still see the crease where he had created the doorway out of the faery prison and back into their own world. He rubbed the crease, allowing a tiny bit of his magic to slip into it. A miniature window formed and he extended the stone to Balor.

  “Look,” he said.

  Balor took the pearl, placing his good eye next to the window. For a couple of seconds, the man peered through, then suddenly jumped back as if struck.

  “My god, Miguel! They saw me! They’re inside somehow, and they tried to attack me! How…”

  Miguel shrugged. How had he done it?

  “I don’t know anymore. It just seemed right at the time. I could open one doorway that would suck them in and another doorway that would let us escape. The pearl needed their magic to have enough power to get us through the barrier and back here. That’s the best I can explain it.”

  “But the Dragon Pearl,” his mom said. “How did it end up here as well?”

  “I dunno, mom. I promised it to Hagr. Maybe it followed me? I mean, he’s a leprechaun, you know. Isn’t there some legend about not breaking a promise to one of them?”

  “He’s nothing more than a damn goblin,” muttered Balor. “You can’t give it to him, you know. Not if Finaarva and Månefè are trapped inside.”

  Miguel was about to say he wasn’t so certain when an authoritative male voice called out.

  “Hey folks, you need to get back on the trail, please!”

  A tall, slender young man in a park ranger’s uniform strode towards them through the tall grasses and ferns. Then he stopped suddenly, clearly seeing their condition.

  “Are you folks all right? Oh, that doesn’t look good,” he said, jogging up to Miguel’s mom, and carefully checking out her broken arm.

  “We, uhm, got caught in the storm,” Àibell said quickly. “Looking for Sasquatch.”

  “How did you…never mind. Let’s get you all back to the ranger station and see what we can do about that arm, ma’am. And is that a burn? But we haven’t seen any sign of a lightning strike near here…oh never mind about that either.”

  As they all rose, the ranger glanced about at the ground. For the first time, Miguel spotted how matted the grasses were where his dragon body had sat.

  “What kind of beast could have done…no, no. Someone will claim Thunderbird landed here.” The young ranger laughed. “So tell me, did you find any?”

  “Find what?” Miguel asked.

  “Oh yes, lots,” Aileen said and he frowned, until he realized she was joking. “I tried to take pictures, but it was too dark for them to turn out, but we saw a whole pack of them.”

  “Really?” the ranger said, clearly not believing her. “And what did they look like?”

  “You know Chewbacca in Star Wars? Where do you think George Lucas got his idea?”

  She glanced at Miguel and winked while everyone laughed. He smiled, relieved that she wasn’t afraid of him.

  “Careful there, ma’am,” the ranger said, helping his mom step over a broad fallen log and back onto the muddy trail. Miguel glimpsed back over his shoulder towards the open sky above the meadow.

  I wonder what it will be like to fly?

  Jay D. Pearson tried writing his first book not too long after learning to ride a bike. He has dabbled in short stories, journalism, poetry, editing, technical writing, and many other forms of writing, but fantasy novels are his passion. His other passion is coaching swimming. Jay lives near Seattle, Washington, with his wife Shelly and two cats. You can read his short story collection, The Misadventures of Sir Roger, at deepheepblog.wordpress.com.

  HEART OF THE DRAGON

  BOOK 2 OF THE DRAGON OF FAERY

  BY JAY D. PEARSON

  Copyright © 2019 by Jay D. Pearson. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Chapter 1

  The Goblin

  Editor’s Note: Why Hagr began a new diary at this point is unknown, as he had used less than half his previous diary. However, he did purchase a black-and-gold Italian designer leather notebook with an inlaid baroque pattern and high-quality ivory paper. Significantly, there are no entries in the previous diary for the two months prior to this first entry. One can only wonder what happened in the interim, or if there is a missing diary someplace.

  This entry was clearly written with a slow and steady hand, at least for the first few paragraphs. By the final paragraph, however, it is clear from the shape of his handwriting that he was becoming agitated.

  I have been king of the leprechauns for a very long time. Without me, they had forgotten how to be shoemakers, but now they are the very best in the world and I am very rich. It is not enough anymore. The dragons have returned and the faeries are back. I saw what they can do. I need more magic or the faeries will make me their servant again. I am king! I am not a servant!

  I also rule the hobgoblins. They are very good at killing but are more stupid than humans. At first, they did not like me being their king, but they lost their magic long ago and I keep them from killing each other. They make good servants.

  My former master still owes me a boon. I must gain the magic of the hidden cities. I know where they are. Only me in all this world. That is because the faeries left Eire for the other world they call Faery and the humans are too stupid to see. Of all the fae folk left in Eire, only I know.

  I have been to each city. They were made with faery magic long, long ago and I cannot take the treasures. I need their magic. One of the cities could be my new castle. I would keep the treasures safe there. They will let me be king of the wicked ones and I will make my old master get the treasures for me. He never will, though. He hates the wicked ones more than I do. No, he would never do such a thing. Not unless…not unless I take the human girl he has claimed as his child. Yes! Yes!

  She is his child because he used the forbidden changeling magic. He has done the awful thing no faery should do. He must pay for doing the bad magic. We did the bad magic together once, long ago, but his lady stopped him. That is when he stopped being my master. But he did it again, and I saw how he looks at the human girl. He cares for her. He loves her. She will be my prize or he will do what I want.

  The boon he promised me is magic. He cannot break it, not with the promise he made me when I saved the girl and his lady. He will get the treasures and then I will claim the promise the boy made me, the Dragon Pearl, and then I will have the magic I need to make the wicked ones serve me. They will make me their king.

  But what if there is another magic needed? What if I need one magic to open the Dragon Pearl and another to be master of the wicked ones? I must make him promise! I must find all the magics and then make him promise to get them all.

  Or the boy. He is a dragon now. He has dragon blood. He could do it. He also cares for the human girl. I saw it. I saw it in his
eyes when I saved her. He does not know about the magic of a boon, but I could tell him about it, make him think of the curses if he breaks it. He is a human, after all, and they are all little fools. Not like me. I am nobody’s fool. I am king of the leprechauns.

  Yes, that is what I will do. I will find both the magics I need. My old master will get me one to open and the boy will get me one to be the greatest king of all. When the wicked ones bow before me, that is what I will be: a king greater than all the humans of the world. Even the little fools will know my name then, when the wicked ones serve me. They will beg me to stop the wicked ones, and I will save the humans, and they will beg for me to be their king. Then I will be the king of everyone, and even my former master will bow before me.

  King Hagr. That is who I am meant to be. King of the World.

  Editor’s note: Hagr wrote several “King of...” that are scribbled out. Not all are legible, but the first one is King of the Fae Folk and another is King of Ireland.

  Chapter 2

  The Boy

  “W

  hy would anyone schedule a field trip in June in Arizona?” Aileen asked Miguel for about the dozenth time as they straggled along the dirt path in Saguaro National Park west of Tucson. Only the two parent chaperones walked any further back; the other thirty or forty eighth graders stretched out in a long, meandering line behind their perky science teacher, Ms. Bradford, and the park’s tour guide.

  “Oh look, Miguel,” his girlfriend said, pointing dramatically to their left. “Yet more cactus and tumbleweeds. Wow.”

  “Cacti,” he muttered, correcting her without thinking, then grimacing as she punched his shoulder. Even after five months, he still wasn’t used to her constant sarcasm.

  “Sorry,” he said, wiping his brow beneath his Arizona Diamondbacks cap, then unscrewing the lid of his water bottle for a quick sip. As he resealed the lid, he spotted her smirk out of the corner of his eye.

  “You are so cute when you’re flustered,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before letting go. They’d tried holding hands for the first 50 yards or so, but on such a hot morning, sweat geysered from their palms and they’d resorted to walking side-by-side.

  He sighed. In the weeks since their return from Olympic National Forest, their relationship had bounced around as if dribbled by a basketball player. They had new identities now, which they were unable to share with anyone but each other, identities they’d discovered on their trip with her parents and his mom, and identities that simultaneously threatened to rip them apart and bind them closer than ever.

  At least he’d learned about his own magic a few months ago, before discovering he could also transform into a dragon. Not only had she just found out she was adopted, but her parents weren’t even human.

  How do you share any of that with your school counselor? he wondered, his eyes focused on the rocky path rather than the desert scrub or even the mountains beyond. They were simply distractions. He couldn’t talk about his new identity with his best friend, Javier, or anyone else his age: only Aileen. Now he felt trapped in their relationship and wondered if she felt the same way but didn’t dare ask.

  Why do I feel like this? Why don’t I like her the way I did a month ago?

  He snuck a quick glance. Her wavy orange-red hair bounced on her shoulders and her green eyes were almost buried beneath a thick layer of black eyeliner. He couldn’t help but smile. No one else at their school looked remotely like her. Even for a hot morning in the desert, she wore black, from her wristbands to her capris, tennis shoes, and t-shirt. Usually it was some metal band he hadn’t heard of before they’d met; today it carried a caption: I Don’t Believe In Atheists. Anyone else would’ve been ordered to put something inoffensive on, but the administration seemed to have given up forcing Aileen to ever wear acceptable clothing. One glare from her even turned Principal Sandoval into a gurgling idiot.

  Is that why? But she never gives me that look. Well, except when I’ve earned it.

  He glanced at her again, catching her eyes this time. She grinned and suddenly his whole body threatened to overheat. When she wasn’t smirking, her smile turned her into the world’s most beautiful girl. It wasn’t the huge fake smile that squealing girls put on when greeting friends; it was as simple as a sunrise, always stunning yet never exactly the same as the one before.

  Am I a complete idiot? Why do I feel trapped?

  The truth was she was completely out of his league. Nerds like him didn’t date in eighth grade. Heck, before Aileen, he’d only dreamed about dating a girl when he lay in bed and knew no one could see his reddened face. He often wondered if this was what his dad felt like when he’d started dating his mom. As much as he admired his father, he knew his mom should’ve married a movie star. Ever since returning with her from the Olympic National Forest, however, his parents had been distant from each other, even arguing loudly at times. Was his dad feeling the same way as him? Trapped in a relationship with a woman whom he never deserved in the first place?

  He suddenly realized the rest of the class had stopped and Ms. Bradford was explaining something while the tour guide fumed. He smiled. It only took one simple question from a student for his science teacher to launch into a tangent that soon had little to do with the original query. She often greeted his first period class by singing Good Morning or Oh What a Beautiful Morning, then tested them by asking what musical the songs were from. One day, Aileen asked when Ms. Bradford was going to sing I Dreamed a Dream, which led their teacher to spend the entire period telling them how Les Misérables gloriously dealt with the themes of love and redemption, leaving his girlfriend to mutter as they left about how all she had wanted to hear was a sad song for once.

  “These petroglyphs,” said Ms. Bradford, “Were made by the Navajo many centuries ago…”

  “Uhm,” the sullen tour guide interrupted. “Actually, they were made by the Hohokam.”

  “Oh, they were? Are you sure?” Ms. Bradford giggled, but plunged on, ignoring the guide’s attempt to regain control. “If you take a close look, you’ll see symbols and animals and even people, but no one knows if this is just art or if the pictures served some other purpose. As we continue on the trail, you’ll see many more examples, so, if you have a phone, get it out and take loads of pictures to prove to your parents you learned something today!”

  “But please don’t touch them!” the guide pleaded. “The oils in your hands will cause damage!”

  Most of the students pulled out their phones, eager for an excuse to actually use them during school hours. By the time he and Aileen had reached the petroglyph their teacher had been talking about, most picture taking had devolved into a massive selfie session.

  The boulder Ms. Bradford had been referring to turned out to have several petroglyphs, most of which were shapes that made little sense to him, although he was certain a couple were animals. One in particular caught his eye: a large sworl extending out in a dozen or so concentric circles from its starting point.

  Aileen’s elbow poked him sharply. “Hey!” she said. “What’s so interesting?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he muttered. He wasn’t certain what mesmerized him. Until she’d jabbed him, his eyes had been unable to look elsewhere once the shape had snagged his attention.

  “Are you sensing something?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper so only he could hear.

  He started to shake his head, then shrugged. Had he felt a tingling, or was that his imagination?

  “Do you?” he asked.

  Aileen snorted. “How? You’re the one with…well, you know...”

  I’m the one with magical powers, he finished, not daring to speak the thought aloud. Resentment towards her crept in immediately, anger that she reminded him of her lack of magic as if they were in a competition. He filed the thought away, however, stashing it in a folder deep within the cabinet in his mind so he could hopefully ignore it. The folder had become very thick in the past few months, with thoughts p
oking out like loose sticky notes. If he wasn’t careful, some were going to spill out where anyone could see them, or so he worried.

  As their field trip continued, the sworl remained emblazoned on his mind, a brand slowly but inexorably pressed down. Suddenly, his eyes were seeing petroglyphs on every large rock, many of which he was certain existed only in his mind.

  Then the rocky ground rumbled as if a pack of mountain lions or bobcats had raced past. He glanced up worriedly, afraid that his classmates were about to be attacked.

  “What’s wrong?” Aileen asked, grabbing his hand.

  “Did…did you feel anything just now?”

  “No…” Her voice trailed away but he was grateful. Her single word held concern only, with no hint of disbelief.

  “Keep up, kids,” said one of their parent chaperones, and Miguel realized he’d stopped moving entirely. Aileen tugged his hand, urging him forward. He knew he needed to move before anyone suspected something might be wrong.

  They had not gone more than fifty yards when he spotted a lonely rock just off the path. It was only a few inches wide, and flat enough for some ancient artist to etch a sworl that took up the entire top. His skin prickled and his eyes glazed.

  “Magic…” he whispered to Aileen and she squeezed his hand. Then the world shifted.

  He recognized the sensation immediately, a sudden whoosh like a tablecloth in the movies being yanked off and leaving all the silverware and china in place, if wobbling a bit. Aileen’s father, Balor, who was also his mentor, had used magic to shift him into this alternate world or worlds to teach him. Panic threatened his wellbeing. He’d never shifted without Balor before.

  Aileen did not shift so easily, however, and he grimaced painfully. His arm felt like it was about to be wrenched from its socket, as if she were caught between worlds. He tried to let go of her hand, but she only gripped him more tightly.