by Finley Aaron
Once he’s done all that, he leaves the meat to cook, turns back into a human and slips on his coat, and joins us inside the house.
“How is the teleporting going?”
“Not bad.”
“We’re getting better.”
“That’s excellent. After lunch I’d like to take you into the training facility inside the mountain. Since you’ve never been there before, you won’t be able to jump there the first time. We’ll have to take the tunnel in from above. But when we’re done, we’ll teleport back to the cabin.”
Judy and I are both nodding, excited about his plans.
Mom is shaking her head. “Inside the mountain. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than touring a cave,” Mike explains.
“But, why is it even necessary?” Mom asks. “You already told them they can’t change into dragon form, because it will change their eyes forever and make it easier for that horrible John fellow to find them. They’ve learned to teleport. Isn’t that enough excitement for one Christmas break?”
“I’m not going to teach them how to turn into dragons,” Mike assures her. “I’m teaching them skills that will keep them safe, not endanger them.”
Dad places a hand on Mom’s arm. “Muriel, you heard what he said about the kids’ biological father. He hunts down dragons and captures them. We’ve been fortunate all these years. He hasn’t found the kids yet. But if they’re going to expect to live hundreds of years like Mike here, they’re going to need to know how to defend themselves.”
“They know martial arts,” Mom counters.
“Martial arts are good for defense against humans,” Mike clarifies, “but for defense against dragons, they need to learn everything I can teach them.”
“And who knows?” Dad adds. “Mike could get hit by a car any day, just like his father, and be gone. Who’s going to teach the kids how to be dragons then, hmm?”
Judy and I don’t say anything, but give Mom pleading looks.
“Fine. I guess,” Mom throws her hands in the air. “We’ll stay. We’re snowed in anyway. You go, learn how to be dragons. I’ll...clean up after our feast of roast beast.”
“Speaking of, let me check on our lunch.” Master Sparks excuses himself.
It’s not long before there’s enough meat cooked to eat (the beast isn’t done all the way through, but Master Sparks whittles off large portions for each of us). We feast, then bundle up in our winter wear while Master Sparks explains the plan.
“I will fly you up to the tunnel on my back. I’ll have to change back into a human to fit through the passageway, but once we’re inside, the two of you need to stay behind me. You can’t run ahead or you could get hurt. When I reach the end of the tunnel, there’s a broad balcony. The training facility is below, deeper in the mountain. I’ll change into a dragon again and fly you down to the floor.”
So that’s what we do. Judy and I focus extra hard on holding tight to Master Sparks’ back, and he, for his part, tries extra hard to fly us up the side of the mountain without losing us in a snowbank.
We are grateful for his carefulness, especially when we reach our destination without falling off his back.
The opening to the tunnel is covered with large rocks, which look like jagged parts of the mountainside even from up close. The two of us climb off his shoulders and stand back while Mike, still in dragon form, heaves the rocks aside.
Then he pulls out the bundle of clothes he brought, unfurls his coat, and holds it out like a modesty screen before he changes into human form and slips it on.
“Watch your heads.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out one of the flashlights Mom packed for the trip, and steps into the darkness before snapping it on.
Feeble yellow light pierces the vast darkness.
This tunnel is much narrower than the one that led from the hidden door in the back of the cabin. We have to walk single file, ducking constantly, stooped over a good part of the time. But we never quite have to crawl, though I find myself turning sideways and even sucking in my stomach to fit through a few of the narrower gaps.
The further we travel, the warmer the air becomes. I ask Mike about it.
“It’s geothermal heat,” he explains. “There’s a natural hot spring pool inside the mountain—I’ve enclosed it to create a sauna and hot tub room in the training facility, but the same spring feeds the water to the cabin. Of course, unless you pump water long enough for the pipes to heat up, by the time the water reaches the cabin, it’s barely warm.”
Master Sparks pauses. “We’re almost there. If the two of you will wait here a moment, I’m going to change back into my dragon form. You may join me once you see my green glow.”
He hurries ahead, taking the flashlight with him so he doesn’t accidentally fall off the ledge. The meager light grows dimmer and dimmer, until it disappears completely with a muted click.
We’re alone in total darkness inside the mountain.
Chapter Fourteen
I shiver and take hold of Judy’s hand. Not because I’m scared, but because she might be. And also because I don’t want to lose her again like I did last night in the blizzard.
Moments later, an emerald green glow fills the tunnel ahead of us. Judy and I hurry forward, but slow cautiously as we reach Mike.
His illuminated scales provide just enough light for us to see the lip of the ledge. Beyond that is nothing but blackness. Air currents move past us, cold air flooding in from the open tunnel above, which rushes past warm air rising to find the sky, causing the cave to inhale and exhale like a living being.
Like a mammoth living being.
Master Sparks crouches low and we climb onto his back. He leaps off the cliff and soars forward at a frightening speed. I brace myself, half-expecting to scrape into a wall, but the wide open air breezes past us.
We swoop around in a wide circle and Mike breathes fire. It provides just enough light for me to make out something like the stub of a beam jutting out of the wall ahead of us. Mike sprays flames at the beam as we pass, igniting the ragged stump.
“It’s a torch,” Judy whispers as Mike glides on to another stunted beam slightly lower than the last. It, too, catches fire as he blows flames on his way past.
In the added light, I can see another beam, which he lights as well.
The cave is growing brighter. I can see a trail of torches now, spiraling downward along the walls of the cave, which is an enormous space, the size of an amphitheater. We glide in a fiery circle, lighting each beam as we pass. After Master Sparks has lit close to two dozen torches, he lands on the smooth floor.
Judy and I slide from his back and look around, eyes wide and mouths agape with wonder.
I generally think of caves as cold, dark, and maybe even a bit frightening. This cave is everything but. It’s warm, well-lit, and inviting. The walls sparkle with mica and minerals as the torch flames dance, reflecting their light against the natural stones.
Along one stretch of stone wall there are massive mirrors, similar to those in Master Sparks’ martial arts studio back in Hastings, which we use to monitor our movements to make sure we’re using proper form. These mirrors reflect the glittering light, casting it back against the stones.
“It’s like being inside a diamond,” Judy marvels.
“It’s amazing, like a ballroom in a castle, only not man-made.”
“Dragon-made.” Judy giggles.
“Dragon-discovered,” Master Sparks corrects her. “Most of this space was always here, formed naturally by the earth. Ages and ages ago, dragons discovered it. I was fortunate enough to befriend some of those dragons before they were murdered by the encroaching armies.”
“Murdered?” Judy sounds horrified.
“Encroaching armies?”
Master Sparks explains, “For most of history, dragons could be found in all corners of the earth, protecting their people and living among them. In Europe, they were mostly hunted down during the Mi
ddle Ages. By the time of the Renaissance, the few dragons who remained in that part of the world had gone into hiding. In the Americas, however, the native people still respected and revered their dragons, and for some years I lived among them. But you know what the invading Europeans did to the Natives.”
I try to recall what I read in a book. “Between acts of war and the introduction of diseases, most of them were killed off.”
“In the centuries following the arrival of Columbus, ninety-five percent of the indigenous population of America had disappeared,” Judy quotes more specific numbers. “But why would the dragons die, too? Couldn’t they hide out in here? Couldn’t they go dragon and defend their people?”
“Dragons,” Mike states solemnly, “are noble creatures. We are faithful, brave, and selfless. We do not abandon our people in their hour of need.”
“So, the dragons fought the invaders?” I clarify.
“They fought, and they died. I was there for some of the battles—I even led women and children away to safety during one particularly horrific massacre. But ultimately, the people were all killed or displaced, their dragon protectors slain, their culture all but erased from history.”
“That’s terrible.” Judy sounds horrified.
Master Sparks nods. “It’s all the more reason why I don’t want anything to happen to the two of you. Dragonkind has lost so much. Nearly everything, really. As long as the two of you remain free, we have hope.”
“We’ll do our best,” I vow.
“Good. That’s all I ask. Now—let’s get to work.”
So we do.
It’s fabulous work, if grueling and exhausting. But for all the hard work and exercise, we eat like we’ve never eaten before—all the roasted meat Mike can hunt. While he’s out hunting, we’re practicing the fighting techniques he’s been teaching us.
I could go into detail of every weapon we study—swords of various lengths and curvatures, staffs and lances, bows and arrows and crossbows—but there are so many, and the techniques for each so varied, it would take forever to explain them all.
Or, in our case, at least five days.
Not that we’ve become even remotely proficient in that amount of time. It’s just that it takes five days for my mom, out of sheer desperate willpower and with perhaps a bit of help from my dad and the bright sunshine, melting temperatures, and swift Wyoming wind, to clear a path down the rutted road to the mailbox, where it seems plows have been by on the main road, making everything passable presumably all the way back to Hastings.
Once she’s made it that far, Mom becomes very insistent that we hurry back home before another blizzard comes along and dumps more snow on us, burying us indefinitely. She explains as much when we return to the cabin after practice on the fifth day.
“We’ve got to leave in the morning.” Mom breaks the news to us as we’re devouring roast meat. “This may be the last time the road is clear before spring thaw.”
Which is a pretty good point, except neither Judy nor I would mind staying here until spring thaw or even later. We’ve been having the time of our lives, spending twelve hours each day fencing, fighting, target practicing…building on our martial arts skills in ways we’d never dreamed possible.
Between all that, we’ve been feasting on roast beasts. The food is fresh and rich and apparently exactly what I was born to eat, because I can feel myself growing stronger with every passing day. Even the broadsword doesn’t feel as heavy, and I’m able to wield it with far greater accuracy than I could in the beginning.
So while Mom’s probably right about the importance of getting out while we can, neither Judy nor I are in any hurry to go.
“Today’s only December twenty-seventh,” Judy points out. “School doesn’t start back until January second. Couldn’t we at least stay two or three more days?”
Mom shakes her head adamantly. “We listened to the radio weather forecast. There’s a fifty percent chance of snow starting tomorrow afternoon, and an eighty percent chance the day after that. If we leave tomorrow morning, we’ll stay ahead of it.”
While she’s talking, I’m doing math in my head. Technically, we don’t have to be back for school for six more days. Five, if you assume we need to get to town the night before we have to be back. Still, if we stayed, we could essentially double our training time, which we so desperately need. At this point, we’ve basically learned just enough to realize how much we need to learn. We know about tons of weapons, but we’re not exactly good with them.
We’ve also been practicing teleporting—from the training facility inside the mountain, to the cabin, and back again. We haven’t used the tunnel higher up the mountain since the very first day. In fact, Master Sparks covered it over with the big rocks again.
All that gives me an idea.
I choose my words carefully, knowing Mom or Dad might decide to put a foot down and refuse to listen at any moment. “We need to drive the Bronco home before the snow comes,” I acknowledge. “I think you should drive it home tomorrow morning. But Judy and I can teleport home. We could stay and practice for five more days, and still be home on January first.”
To my relief, Mom and Dad look so shocked by my idea, neither of them speaks.
Judy, however, squeals with delight. “Yes! That’s a great idea. Then you won’t have to listen to us whining in the back seat the whole drive home, and we’ll get more time to practice.”
“More time to practice means we’ll be safer, and better prepared to defend ourselves if we encounter any enemies,” I point out quickly, as Mom and Dad start moving their mouths in shocked silent protest.
They find words a moment later.
“I don’t mind you whining in the back seat,” Mom claims. “And I think we need to stick together.”
“You’ve never teleported that far,” Dad points out. “How do you even know you can?”
“They can,” Master Sparks answers solemnly. “They’ve been teleporting through solid rock without any problems. That’s far more difficult than passing through open air.”
He explained that science to us earlier when we took the cabin tunnel before teleporting. Solid rock, like what the mountain is mostly made of (the cave being essentially a small air bubble in its massive midst) is exhausting to teleport through. It’s the same rule of exertion that says a long trip is more trying than a short one, because in real life, it would take more energy to tunnel through the rock than to fly a long distance.
In fact, the very reason Master Sparks built the cabin tunnel, was so he could teleport through a thinner stretch of stone. It winds around to a place where the natural cavern bulges toward the cabin, so he can teleport through the least amount of stone possible.
He didn’t dig all the way through because he wanted his training facility to remain secure against potential intruders. It’s the best of both worlds. And his footprints inside the tunnel point only inward because he always used the tunnel to go to the cave from the cabin, but after his workouts, he was hungry and teleported outside to hunt, then flew back to the cabin with whatever he’d killed to eat.
“We can teleport home,” Judy assures mom.
“The more familiar the place, the easier it is to teleport to.” I remind everyone of what Master Sparks taught us. The rule also explains why I was able to teleport to my bedroom without even knowing it was possible. It was the easiest destination I could have selected. “Home should be super easy, even if it is seven hundred miles away.”
“And we’ve been building up our strength like never before,” Judy reminds Mom and Dad. “If we keep eating like this, we’ll have plenty of strength to make this trip or even longer. Please?”
Dad turns to Master Sparks. “You’re in favor of this plan?”
Master Sparks nods solemnly in that very formal way he has that’s almost a bow. “They are learning quickly, but it would be a great advantage for them to practice for a few more days.”
“Why can’t you just teach them this s
tuff at your studio back in Hastings?” Mom asks.
“The studio is not nearly large enough for the kinds of maneuvers we’re working on. Also, I do not have these various weapons there—and if they did try to practice with the swords and arrows in that small space, they would damage the building. Here, they can train in secret. It is for the best.”
“You’re completely certain they can teleport home with no problems?” Dad presses.
Again, Master Sparks nods. “They have the skills. I foresee no difficulty. Young Rudyard’s plan is a good one.”
“If we were to agree to this plan,” Mom interjects, “and I’m not saying we are agreeing—I’m only saying, if. If we agree, I’d want you both back home on Sunday.”
“School doesn’t start until Tuesday,” Judy reminds us.
“Sunday,” Mom repeats in her no nonsense mom tone. “You still haven’t opened your Christmas presents. I want one day as a family, at home. Is that too much to ask?”
Considering how many times Mom has let us have our way in spite of her misgivings, I don’t think it’s too much to ask. Besides, if it means letting us stay here four more days, and skipping the long ride home in the Bronco, I’m happy to agree to it.
“Sunday,” I repeat, nodding. “We can teleport home on Sunday evening.”
“Afternoon—before it gets dark out,” Mom presses.
“Afternoon,” Judy and I both agree simultaneously.
I’m nearly giddy with the thought, until I glance at Master Sparks. You’d think he’d be grinning just as happily as I am, but instead, he looks distinctly worried.
When he sees me looking at him, he smiles, chasing the concern from his face.
What’s he worried about?
And why is he hiding it from me?
Now’s not the time to discuss it, not in front of Mom and Dad, who need only the slightest reason to change their minds about letting us stay. I go through the motions of happily getting ready for bed, hiding my concern as easily as Mike hid his.
The next morning, the three of us help Mom and Dad load all our stuff into the Bronco. Mom gets all teary-eyed when it comes time for them to leave.
