by L. R. W. Lee
Imogenia raised her hands to her ears. “I can’t talk about this!” The spirit vanished into thin air.
“I have to keep trying. She’ll come around one of these days.”
“You’ve got more faith than I do,” Andy replied.
“So, back to your plans for reaching out to others for help.” Regent Cronkar cleared his throat. “How do you propose to win their trust?”
As Mom began her response, Andy’s world began to darken. MiniMe, jump! I’m leaving Oomaldee! His admonition came a second before everything faded to black.
Mom landed softly on Andy’s bed, drawing his attention from where he lay sprawled across the beanbag chair—his landing spot. His game controller thudded to the floor.
“First soft landing I’ve had.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“What? You want me to crash land?”
“No.” Mom shook his question away.
Apollis’s talon jabbed Andy’s back through the tunic he’d wrapped it in. He sat up and removed his pack.
“There’s much to be done,” Mom asserted. “And building trust with all these groups will not be quick or easy. But I can’t do anything from here.”
The seriousness of her mood brought the reality of all that had happened crashing like a tidal wave. “It’s surreal.” A lost feeling washed over him—a cork bobbing in a swell, tossed about at the whim of forces beyond his control.
“I think that’s the only way you can describe it,” Mom agreed.
“I’m scared.”
Mom nodded. “Me too.”
“What if we can’t—”
Mom held up a hand. “We can only do our best. I need to always remind myself of that. You would do well to do the same.”
Andy nodded then fell silent. Yara. Emotion welled up and he struggled to control it.
“Andy?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me.”
“Being home—” Andy choked out “—it feels like she’s even further away.”
Mom joined him on the floor and hugged him. “You’ll always have a place in your heart that is only hers. I know it hurts right now, far worse than any hurt you’ve ever felt. It’s okay. It’s okay to hurt and cry. It’s how we know we love. A little pain will always be there. Trust me, I know.”
“I should enjoy the pain?”
Mom chuckled. “No, Andy, but don’t try to chase it away. Only time can do the work of healing. It’s part of growing up. And just so you know, I miss her too.”
Andy brushed a hand over his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.
“I’m always here if you want to talk.”
After a companionable silence, Andy asked, “Why do you trust Razen?”
“Because Father does.”
“But what if he’s wrong to trust him?”
“Father has known the man far longer than I. I will not go second-guessing his judgment. Now then, if we are to fix our myriad of challenges, the first thing we need to do is reestablish communication with Oomaldee. Near as I can tell, without access to that Appearo Beam you’ve told me about, we’re dead in the water.”
“Could you not use that expression?”
Mom laughed.
“There you are!” Dad’s voice reached them. “Didn’t you hear us calling?”
Dad and Madison entered Andy’s room, their mouths gaping as they spotted Mom and Andy’s attire.
“No. No. Please, tell me it’s not true,” Dad pleaded, running a hand through his hair.
Madison’s eyes grew large.
CHAPTER ONE
Jax
Six weeks had shuffled by like a hunched old man, and the ache in Andy’s chest over losing Yara hadn’t dulled in the slightest. He was glad.
Princess Yara, Andy’s first true love and the only surviving member of Cromlech’s royal family, had perished at the hands of Abaddon in a horrific display of the enemy’s power.
Yet again Andy moaned, flailing and panting in his sleep. Yara dropped her sword, grabbed her head, and fell to the floor writhing. Everything turned to slow motion: The princess screamed in agony. Andy clawed the floor, desperate to reach her, but Abaddon held him back.
“So, you care for her,” the enemy taunted, throwing a blast of water past Andy. He snatched up the princess’s limp body and gave her a toss. Seconds later, she thudded against the cold stone.
“Stop!”Andy screamed, fighting back tears.
“More you say? By all means…”
Yara again dropped to the unforgiving stone as Andy scuttled to reach her, only to be sucked back by the enemy. Again. And again. And again. Her body crashed against the hard floor.
“Kneel before me!”
Tears streamed down Andy’s cheeks as he looked at Yara’s unmoving form, and his anger boiled over. “Never!”
Andy startled awake. He gulped air like a greedy hippo.
When his breathing finally slowed, he wiped tears on his sheets, got up, and changed into dry clothes. The alarm clock display read 2:17 a.m.
Andy lay back down, hoping for better dreams. He was sorely disappointed as his mind drifted.
Fides materialized next to Abaddon in the dining hall of Castle Avalon where Father, Mermin, and a host of castle staff were eating lunch. Shrieks rose as the black mage shot bolts of energy at the King, lifting him above the table as everyone fled. Father’s face contorted in anguish as his body convulsed.
A nod from the dragon and Fides withdrew his energy. Father thudded to the floor and didn’t move. Royal soldiers stormed the hall, but the wizard blasted them back.
“I believe there are lavish accommodations in the dungeon for you, my puppet,” Abaddon sneered. “Take him away!”
A pair of Abaddon’s beefiest minions roughly grabbed Father’s arms and dragged his limp body down the grand staircase and three more flights before tossing him into a cell. They both kicked him in the ribs before exiting.
“Stop!” Andy’s scream accomplished nothing.
The iron door slammed behind the pair. “Hope you like your new master,” they laughed as they turned.
Andy woke thrashing, and his gut constricted as if a python squeezed it. While he had not witnessed the events leading to Father’s incarceration weeks before, his active imagination needed no help. Tonight’s version had been less violent than some.
“I won’t let you die the way I did Yara…” Frustration reared its head. “But I’m back here and can’t do anything to get you out!”
Mom was staring out the window when Andy walked into the kitchen the next morning. She feels just as helpless as I do to rescue Father.
“Oh. Andy.” She sighed.
“Father?” he guessed.
She nodded, then noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “More nightmares?”
He nodded.
“Which one?”
“Both.”
Mom reached over and drew him into a long, knowing hug.
“It’s okay, Mom. At least with nightmares about Yara I can stay connected to her.”
“Honey, bad dreams of her final seconds aren’t going to keep her alive.”
“It all seems so pointless. Why did she have to die?” Andy clamped down on the emotion that welled up.
“It wasn’t up to her.”
No, it was up to me. It was my fault. If only I’d called Abaddon my sovereign… His guilt heaped on yet another helping of responsibility, and he sagged under the weight.
Mom pulled him close. “Yara chose to battle Abaddon, but she didn’t control her fate. I believe any number of things could have intervened if it wasn’t her time. But it was. When death comes too soon, despair can threaten to overwhelm us, but we can’t give in. We have but one defense.”
Andy sniffed as he stepped back. “What’s that?”
“We cherish the moments we have with others. Each and every day. Rather than focusing on her loss and the meaninglessness of her death, treasure the gift of knowing and loving
her. Yara will never completely leave you. You have too many fond memories of her. Dwell on those.”
Andy drew a hand over his moist eyes and cleared his throat. “Is that how you do it? You must have lost lots of people you loved over five hundred years.”
Mom nodded. “It’s all I have.”
The front doorbell’s ring interrupted the moment. “Now who could that be? Andy, would you get that?”
He wasn’t surprised at the request. Mom and Dad had taken to using any opportunity to distract him from the ache of losing Yara, as well as ease his angst concerning Father’s situation. But his eyes bulged when he opened the door and found a bronzed, bare-chested man—no, a chestnut-colored horse—no…
The centaur stomped a hoof. “Are you Andy?”
Andy braced himself.
“Who is it, Andy?” Mom’s voice echoed from the other room.
Andy scanned the yard over the horse-man’s shoulder for enemy reinforcements. None. He exhaled but set his jaw.
“Andy?” Mom neared.
“Cool. You’re just the one I came to talk to.” The centaur stepped back and adjusted a camouflage headband with a peace sign stitched in black, then straightened. The top of his head rose above the door frame.
“Who are you and where’d you come from?” Andy demanded.
“I’m Jax, a son of Chiron. I’m from Oomaldee, of course, but I’ve been on a mission for the last several centuries here in what is now the good ol’ U. S. of A.”
“What do you want?” Mom had grabbed Methuselah. Its blade extended as it always did at her touch—the queen of Oomaldee. She nudged Andy aside, brandishing the blade in an eight pattern.
The centaur raised his hands. “Peace, ma’am. Everything’s copacetic. I’m not gonna hurt anyone. Just chill.”
“The sons of Chiron died out centuries ago,” Mom growled, shifting her stance. “Only lawless beasts remain of that noble race.”
“What’s going on, honey? Who’s at the door?” Dad called from the study.
“Most did,” the stranger agreed. “You’re right, Queenie.”
Mom jerked back. “How did you know?”
The centaur ignored Mom’s question and pressed on. “A few of us didn’t get blitzed on wine and spirits. That stuff’s bad, man. Nope, some of us decided to take Merlin’s advice and stay clean. In fact, my main man left us a job to do, which is what brings me to the door of your humble abode this morning.” The centaur placed a hand across his abdomen and bowed.
“Merlin sent you? How do you know Merlin?” Andy raised a brow.
Andy’s sister Madison, older by two years, squeaked and ducked for cover as Dad bolted to Mom’s side.
“He’s only the most renowned mage in both our worlds. He’s also brother to Mermin—” Jax met Mom’s eyes, “—your first husband’s wizard. But you know that.”
Peeking out, Madison blinked. “What’s he talking about? Your first husband?”
“Madison, why don’t you go do your homework?” Dad cut her off.
“It’s Saturday. What’s he talking about?”
Andy’s tone softened. “How’d you get here?”
“I hoofed it from…” He looked both ways behind him, then put a hand to the side of his mouth and whispered, “I’m not allowed to say exactly where. It’s one of the doorways between your world and mine.”
Mom nodded and retracted Methuselah’s blade, causing Dad’s eyes to become saucer-sized. “No!” Dad shook his head wildly.
Mom put a calming hand on Dad’s arm.
“What did you need to talk to me about?” Andy redirected.
“Ah yes, my original purpose.” The centaur turned and scrounged in a small leather satchel, making the bow and quiver slung across his back slide down. Andy did a double take: the satchel, bow, and quiver coordinated, bearing hand-painted white daisies.
Dad shot a questioning look to Mom, but Madison brightened and emerged from behind her protector. In little more than a whisper Madison said, “Daisies are my favorite flower.”
A smile erupted on the centaur’s face. “Well, I’d say you have very good taste, little maiden.”
Madison laughed off the compliment, but the flush that crept across her cheeks betrayed her true feelings.
Jax extracted a gold envelope.
A clue? Can I can go back now? Hope rose in Andy’s heart.
The centaur held up a finger. “Now don’t be thinking this makes me some sort of Pony Express, because I’m not. Right after I saw that message in the stars the other day, this materialized, like magic. Poof.” The centaur mimicked an explosion with his fingers. “Psychedelic if you ask me. It’s addressed to ‘Prince Andrew, he whose tribulation shall work redemption.’ That would be you, yes?” He handed it to Andy.
Andy nodded. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“What’d you think, GPS?” Jax laughed. “Why, the stars of course. Led me right to you. You’ve got all sorts of hi-tech gizmos, but I’ll stick with the stars, thank you very much. Never once steered me wrong.”
“Why don’t you come in,” Andy invited.
“No, Andy!” Dad spread his arms, stepping directly in front of the centaur.
“Dad, you and Mom have been looking for ways to distract me from thinking about…things…” He gave a heavy sigh.
“Yes, but nothing life threatening!”
Mom chuckled. “Andy’s right. And if our guest had intended to harm us, we wouldn’t be standing here talking. It’s okay.”
“Quite so,” Jax agreed, drawing a frown from Dad who shuffled aside at turtle speed.
“Please wipe your feet.” Mom pointed to the welcome mat.
Jax ground one hoof against the indicated mat, then the other, ducking as he eased his fuzzy girth through the doorway. He paused to do the same with his hind hooves before standing tall in the foyer.
“Please remove your weapon as well,” Mom requested.
The centaur grunted and swished his tail, but complied, resting both the bow and quiver against a nearby wall.
“This way,” Andy gestured toward the family room.
Mom and Dad seated themselves on the black leather sofa while Andy plopped down in the recliner across from them.
Madison eased past Jax who collapsed his equine quarters on the carpet under the archway. She nested next to Mom at the far end of the coach. All was silent. The centaur removed his headband and his flowing black tresses fell forward. Gathering his hair with both hands, he tossed it back over one shoulder. The action revealed several daisy tattoos on his shoulders and running down an arm.
“I love your tattoos!” Madison oozed, sitting up straight. “I have the same problem with my hair. Do you want a scrunchie? It’ll keep it out of your face.”
“Cool. That’d be groovy, little maiden.”
Madison smiled. “Be back in a sec.”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“So Andy, you’ve got quite a reputation. Is it true?” the centaur began.
“Is what true?”
“Only that you’re gonna fix the center of Oomaldee’s power. Saw it in the stars. That’s why I’m here.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Merlin said we’d see a sign that the dude whose gonna fix things is finally here. I’ve been waiting and watching, oh man, a good five centuries, but I finally saw it the other night. Didn’t waste any time. Came straight here.”
“What exactly did you see?” Andy questioned.
“Peace. Just like back in the good ol’ sixties—that’s my favorite generation you know.” Jax held up a hand and splayed his first two fingers. “Right there in the stars, plain as day. Or night. You know what I mean.”
Andy grinned. “You’ve been here for centuries and yet, of all that time, you like the 1960s the best?”
“Things were mighty primitive before then. Culture started groovin’ in the sixties with daisies and tie-dye.”
“I prefer the Roaring Twenties myself,” Mom enthuse
d. “I love the Foxtrot and the Charleston. Fun dances!” Dad furrowed his brow.
“I guess you two would have a lot in common,” Andy mused. “In fact,” Andy’s brain calculated, “you both would have gotten here around the same time, wouldn’t you?”
Mom and Jax turned bobbleheads and grinned. Dad patted Mom’s leg as a corner of his mouth eased upward.
Madison paused by Jax’s side and handed him one of her old daisy-patterned scrunchies. “I love the design!” He stretched it, then frowned.
“You put it in like this.” Madison removed her hair band and tossed her waist-length hair about.
A memory of Yara doing the same with her long golden locks flitted through Andy’s mind. He suppressed a sigh.
Madison gathered her hair, held the band to the back and pulled the fullness through, then repeated the motions two more times.
“Excellent!” Jax imitated, then shook his head about, testing the band’s resiliency. Once satisfied, he replaced his headband.
Maddy took a seat on the floor next to the centaur and began petting his thick fur.
“I think it’s time you open that letter, Andy,” Jax intoned. “I’ve been dying to know what it says.”
“Right.” Andy slipped a finger under the sealed flap and tore it open.
“Can you scratch over a little…a little more…ah, that’s it,” Jax coached Madison.
Andy extricated a single sheet of parchment and read aloud:
“A treasure hunt before you waits,
what my faithful servant obfuscates.
He hid well the pieces
Of the Land’s broken heart.
Until the time should come
For healing and a new start.
Three pieces and a letter which,
their ticking-tocking shows,
To reawaken what’s been dead,
to set their parts just so.
The prowess of our Land, ‘tis true,
has birthed untold advance.
