The Harry Ferguson Chronicles Box Set

by William David Ellis

  “Children, we are going to play the best game of hide-and-seek this morning. You have to be real quiet and come with me now, okay? Shush, shush!” she added as the typical loud questions started to arise like bees off a disturbed hive.

  They gathered like the Pied Piper’s factions, tittering and laughing in semi-hushed tones. They formed a very crooked line and then skipped down the steps into the dark basement. The last thing the old man heard before he looked away was, “Ewww, it’s dawk down heah!”

  “Whew! I am so glad they are going to be safe. That’s a load off my heart,” the old man said, looking at the 1,244-year-old love of his life staring back from a six-year-old body. “Is there any way I can get you to go with them?”

  “Not hardly, buster!” the ancient royalty replied. “I will not leave you! You can threaten me. You can tie me up and throw me into the basement, but if you do, I will chew the ropes off, crawl back up here, and bite you. You can even threaten to spank me, but this is my fight too.”

  The old man blushed at that remark, and Sarah laughed at him and continued her tirade. “And I promise you,” she decreed in her best imitation of a grand princess from a former century, “if you spank this little girl, we will not be amused.”

  Harry dug in his heels. “If I die, and you’re captured, everything we’ve fought for will have been in vain. Sarah, you can’t help me here. You can only get in the way and distract me. You may be a 1,244-year-old princess, but you’re working out of a six-year-old body, honey. So really, what good do you think you’re gonna do?”

  “I love you, Harry the Bold, son of Fergie. I will not leave you, and if you go down beneath the dragon’s claws, I will leap on your body and fight the beast with all the fury of what little power I possess until he is forced to kill me as well. Whether in life or death… I will not leave you.”

  “Damn, woman!” the old man grumbled, both sad and fiercely proud at the same time. A knock on the library door brought him back to the moment.

  The old man looked around the library to be sure all the children had gone. He checked in with the speaker. Is the armor activated?

  “Yes… You are also ready. You are not an old man limping into the twilight of his life. You are a knight, a dragon rider. You have the resources of the King at your disposal. Now plunge me through the scaly hide of this beast! I am thirsty!”

  The old man paused, took a deep breath, and opened the door. He was not surprised to see the smiling face of the Reverend Laden Long staring back at him. Neither said anything for a moment. Then Long began, “You know why I am here, but I am not sure you are aware that I have brought guests with me.” He pointed out to the parking lot where Grandma Grace and the fire marshal stood, surrounded by several townspeople, each with a firearm pointed in the general direction of the elderly couple. Harry noticed Kenneth’s and Grace’s mouths were duct-taped and across each of their chests was strapped a bomb.

  Harry looked at them, nodded, and then stared back at the counterfeit clergy.

  “You’re not going to say anything?”

  Harry just shrugged, his face expressionless. “Nothing to say.”

  “Hmmmph,” the reverend grunted. “Okay then, you have someone I want, and I have someone you want. Actually, two someones.”

  Before Harry could answer, Sarah cried out, “Yes! Yes! I will come with you, only let them go!”

  The speaker whispered, “He will not let them go. He intends to kill you all, take Sarah away, and turn her into a dragon.”

  The old man thought back to his perpetual friend, Yep, and that is why… He knelt down to hold Sarah by the arms, looking into her eyes. “Sarah, you have to trust me on this.”

  “I know. I know. I can’t bear this. It’s all because of me. Just let me go, or he will kill them.”

  Harry bent low, placed his forehead on hers, and whispered, “He’s not going to let them go. You know that.”

  She looked back at him, sobbing, and nodded. “Do what you have to do.”

  He whispered again, “Act like you’re going with him. Distract him but do not get close enough for him to grab you.”

  Harry stood up and looked back at the demonized reverend. “We agree.”

  Sarah addressed the man. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

  The reverend took his eyes off Harry and moved toward Sarah.

  Then Harry struck, screaming, “fulgor incedium mea sator!” The invisible cloak over his armor that kept the dragon from seeing him also hid the brightly burning ancient sword. Harry struck without warning, slicing off the arm that reached for Sarah, and kicked the reverend through the door.

  Harry kept up the attack and hacked at the surprised man, who, though bleeding profusely, was lightning quick, and moved back dodging the blows. Two things happened at once. The reverend signaled his followers to fire on Harry, Kenneth, and Grace. His followers hesitated, and the fire marshal jumped the guard, striking him with his bound hands, trying to push his wife out of the way. Harry glanced toward the struggle, his heart pounding. He raced toward them, slicing through the crowd like hot butter with his flaming sword. He was too late.

  The couple was hammered by bullets under a burst of fire. Grace was shot in the head, Kenneth in the chest. The reverend’s man, holding the detonator, was also bleeding, and confused. His eyes were wide and glazed as he stared at the detonator. Harry saw the look, raced toward him screaming, and slammed down with the sword, slicing the hand with the detonator from the rest of the arm. Harry looked down at his friends and cursed. They were lying in a heap, the fire marshal still trying to shield his wife.

  Harry had no time for grief as bullets began to slam into his armor like sheets of hail. None penetrated the ancient metal, but the shock of their blows pushed him back. His sword sliced through the air, singing its violent metallic song as it hacked through flesh and gunmetal.

  Suddenly a tremendous roar shook the earth behind him, shattering the library windows. Harry was glad he had moved the children to safety, or they would have been shredded. He turned to see a twisting, thrashing, changing shape, dancing in a crackling flame that baked the startled air. The atmosphere screamed and then popped like a cork freed from a champagne bottle as a whirlwind of flame curled around the wounded shape of Reverend Laden Long. The smoke cleared, sucked back into the reptilian lungs of a dragon that had been healed of wounds, and had razor-sharp claws ready to slice Harry’s flesh to ribbons.

  The dragon drew back its head and vomited a torrent of flame at Harry. Instantly, the armor’s color changed from dark bronze to fiery gold. The visor fell over his eyes, and impenetrable glass shielded his vision. Harry braced like he was leaning into a fierce gale, lunged forward, and cut into the underbelly of the great worm. The beast shrieked as the glowing sword tore through muscle and nerve, disappearing deep into the insides of the dragon. An agonized roar of flame exploded from the dragon’s mouth. It swung its claw and swept Harry across the concrete, streaming sparks as he slid across the parking lot. As he gripped the sword, it spoke to his heart, “You hurt him, Harry! He knows you can hurt him. Keep swinging, old man. You’re not out of this fight yet!”

  Harry picked himself up just in time to see the dragon charging like a raging bull. Harry felt the sting of a dozen bullets as the dragon’s followers continued to shoot at him from behind parked cars. His armor held, but his strength ebbed. The spirit was more than willing, but his flesh was seventy years old. As he crouched to receive the dragon’s charge, he was dismayed to see the wound he had ripped into its scaly belly was already half-healed.

  The dragon’s powers of regeneration were incredible. It lowered its head with the intent to gore Harry, break his armor, and crush him beneath its angry claws. Harry heard the speaker yell, “Down on your back! Raise your sword and cut him from stem to stern!” Harry ran and slid feet first toward the dragon, ducked beneath its great jaws, and thrust the sword upward into its long neck. The force of the dragon’s charge carried it along th
e laser-sharp edge of the sword, whose hoarse voice screamed in Harry’s mind, “You got him!”

  The dragon braked on the sharp blade and cut itself open. Dark steaming blood spurted from the long wound of its underbelly, and the dragon’s molten intestines squeezed through the seam. The smell of sulphur and rotten septic mixed with the metallic smell of blood poured out of the serpent. For a moment everything stood still. Harry, panting and wheezing, forced his bruised and bloody body to stand. His armor was coated in dark blood as he looked down on the still-breathing dragon. Smoke rose from its flared nostrils and formed small rings that floated into the morning air. Slowly the dragon moved. It held its belly wound with one hand, pushed itself up with the other, and then sluggishly pointed a crooked claw toward the end of the parking lot. Harry closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and turned in the direction the beast indicated.

  The children who he thought he had placed out of harm’s way were crowded together, along with his daughter. Several of the dragon’s disciples, masked and armed, stood around them. One of the dragon’s followers was yelling at the freckle-faced boy, who stared back at him with an unrepentant look.

  His daughter’s hands were tied behind her, and most of the children were cowed, leaning into his daughter. Many had been crying and their flushed faces were still struggling with sobs. Harry’s face burned with anger, but he knew that he could never make it across the parking lot before the kidnappers fired on his daughter and the children.

  The dragon gasped in pain, shook, and then laughed. “I am healing, old man. In a few minutes I will be as good as new, but you,” it sneered, “are weak, and old, and fading. It’s over. There is no way you can beat me. If I signal those men, the children die, and your daughter as well. But if you lay down your sword and surrender, I promise you, your death will be quick, and the children and your daughter will be spared.” The dragon’s eyes were riveted on Harry, who should have known better than to stare into a dragon’s eyes. The beasts were famous for their ability to cast a spell with their gaze, and in his weakened condition, Harry was vulnerable.

  “You know he is lying. I can smell the treachery on him. He reeks of deceit. Those children will be sacrificed just like Thomas. You know that, Harry,” the sword whispered.

  Harry’s last wall of resistance was crumbling. He could hear his heart thumping against his chest, the rhythmic beat lulling him into submission. He rallied for a moment and yelled back in his thoughts, What can I do? It’s them or me… and with that, Harry unbuttoned his helmet and fell on his knees before the hissing beast.

  The dragon was suspicious that Harry had given in so easily. It had no context for love or self-sacrifice, for it loved no one, and sacrifice was what you did to the weak in order to feed the strong. The evil beast had expected Harry to fight unto death, with the dragon triumphant, Harry beneath its claws, being roasted by its flaming breath. This little recess was the dragon’s attempt to buy time to heal. It had no intention of sparing those children. It planned to snack on them as soon as this ordeal was over. So, when Harry unbuckled his helmet and knelt, the dragon was wary and paused, waiting for a few more minutes of respite in which to complete its healing. What stupid beings these humans are! it thought. What puny, worthless creatures! With that, the dragon stood, its wounds almost healed, and pulled back a claw to grab hold of Harry so it could sink its fangs into the old man’s weary frame. As it reared back its neck for a mighty spray of flame, a snarling dragon, the size of a small steam engine, suddenly flew in from the side and slammed it to the ground.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harry was thrown free by the collision and watched, astonished, as another dragon, smaller but bellowing in anger, pounded the old serpent’s head with its lacerating claws. In the heartbeat of that moment, Harry suddenly heard popping sounds like fireworks at a midnight New Year’s celebration. He turned to move toward the children and his daughter, expecting them to be the target of the gunfire. He watched the scene like it was in slow motion, and to his surprise, the dragon’s followers were mowed down in front of his eyes, each would-be executioner with a shiny new red orifice in his forehead.

  At the sound of the rifle fire, his daughter screamed at the children to fall to the ground and, like obedient little dominoes, they embraced the earth. After the guns ceased their staccato fire, Harry heard, “Hands up,” and turned to see the rest of the dragon’s followers being forced to their knees by the members of the police force and fire department that had not been a part of the dragon’s cult. Harry briefly scanned the crowd and saw Barry, who waved, bloody and beaten, leaning on Jamie, his wife. Harry nodded, then quickly turned his attention back to the ferocious battle of the dragons. In the back of his mind he thought the smaller dragon looked familiar, and then his eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened.

  Sarah had shifted. Somehow, she had changed into a dragon and then, without a moment’s hesitation, charged, hurtling into Laden Long the dragon. Both dragons screamed and spewed flame, slapping at each other with their razor-like claws: ripping, shrieking, flame burning, and crushing everything and everyone in their path. Harry rushed in, slicing and striking the large, dark dragon, but was only able to hit it from behind, slashing its giant spiked tail. It was not enough, and even to his untrained eyes, he could see that the smaller dragon, Sarah, was losing the battle. She was bleeding from many wounds, one claw nearly severed, and she limped from multiple lacerations to her legs. The larger dragon was also bloodied, and the wound Harry had carved into its middle was torn in many places, but the dark dragon was larger, stronger, and, Harry realized, a great deal more experienced. As far as he knew, Sarah had only been a dragon for five minutes. Harry watched as the dark dragon would feint. When Sarah reacted to the false blow, it would hammer her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her and dropping her to her knees. After another blow, she fell completely to the ground, her head striking it with a thud.

  Harry screamed, “Sarah!” and raced toward the dark dragon with his sword lifted high, but was hammered by the dragon’s tail slamming him into the library wall.

  ***

  The large, dark dragon sneered, cracked its neck, and then whispered to the smaller dragon, “It doesn’t have to be this way. You can still be with me. It would even be easier now that you have finally given in and transformed.”

  Sarah blinked back, shaking her head weakly. “No. Never…”

  The evil worm continued thinking, If I can just get her to lock eyes with me, I can break her will and capture her.

  Sarah, unaware that a dragon could cast a spell with its eyes, did not resist challenging it with her stare. Harry looked on, trying to raise himself up in time to scream a warning, but it was too late. He saw Sarah’s dragon form shudder and her face lock in a fixed gaze. He cried out in despair as he saw the dark dragon’s evil, gloating grin.

  The other dragon, however, failed to see a movement in the yard. The blackened body of the fire marshal shuddered, then staggered to rise. He was burned over most of his body, one eye seared away. He had been shot in the chest and possibly even the gut. But even in his mortally wounded state he had realized that the small dragon was Sarah, and she was in danger. With the same adrenalin that gives a mother the strength to push a car off her infant, he rallied in a defiant act of love. The bomb that the dragon’s followers had strapped across his chest was still active. The fire marshal had managed to rip the detonator from the severed hand of the man who had held it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Grandpa Kenneth roused and charged. He slammed into and held on to the bent neck of the dragon, and with his other hand, pushed the button on the detonator.

  The blast tore through the dark dragon’s neck, blowing the large head off its fleshly pedestal. Flames erupted upward. Harry, who had been running toward the dragon as soon as he realized what the fire marshal intended, was blown back through the white picket fence of the pretty landscaped library. Glass and debris flew like living shrapnel, slicing people a hundre
d feet away. Dark sickly blood, tar-like and putrid, covered everyone in the blast area. Sarah dragon was blown back, soot and burning blood speckling her green scales. In the shock of the blast, she slammed her head against the concrete and lay still.

  The first person to move was Barry. He and Jamie hobbled through chunks of burning flesh to make sure the evil dragon was truly dead, and then moved toward the body of Harry, who, to them, still looked like he wore his street clothes. They could not understand how he had withstood the blows and flame of the dragon without his clothes being torn and burned to pieces.

  They were about to rouse him when they heard a shuffle behind them. The smaller dragon was stirring, slowly pushing up until it stood on unsteady legs. It wobbled like a drunk, fell to the ground, picked its head up, stared at the broken bundle that had once been Grandma Grace, and crawled toward it. Barry watched, glued to the spectacle. Once the dragon reached the woman’s body, it gently pulled her to its chest and wailed. Shrieking its grief into the lonesome sky, it softly stroked the body like it was some gruesome doll, then reluctantly placed her grandma’s body gently on the ground. The beast looked around, searching the parking lot, when its gaze lit on Harry, who still lay unconscious. The dragon’s regenerative qualities had kicked in, and its strength was quickly returning. Rising on all fours, it lumbered toward Harry.

  Barry and Jamie were torn, not wanting to abandon their friend, but neither desiring to become a dragon’s next meal. A few feet away from them, the beast stopped and spoke. Barry’s eyes grew large, and Jamie squealed, “Sheeeeeittt!”

  The dragon’s human-like voice was feminine and polite. “May I see him, please?” it asked.

  Barry was dumbfounded, but Jamie, who was never at a loss for words, recovered and asked, “Are you who I think you are?”

  The dragon laughed sadly and answered, “Apparently, I am. This is as new to me as you. Please don’t be afraid. I just want to check on Harry. Do you know… is he alive? How serious are his injuries?” Sarah reached out to touch Harry’s still form, and in so doing, she brushed against the sword Harry still gripped in his hand.