The Phoenix Lord (The Dracosinum Tales)

by Angelique S. Anderson

  Wylie pulled the blanket off her legs, painfully aware that her poor health was becoming very evident. How much longer can I lie here in bed, doing nothing? She was beginning to worry if she went on this way at some point she might not wake up. She was finding it difficult to breathe and speak as it was.

  I may not be able to take on my Teselym form, but I can at least travel as my essence. Perhaps that way, I can find Quincy. Why didn’t I think of this before? She turned around and let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. There were many things that could go wrong, and none of them had to do with her essence being without a body, though the idea of that crossed her mind as well.

  Her lifeless body being found, without Adrian around to watch over her, could cause major concern. Would Adrian be able to explain why she was lifeless? Would it really matter? It was her duty to perform as the Teselym whether she could take on her dragon form or not. So if that meant she had to perform her duties in essence form only, so be it.

  “I don’t suppose my essence can be killed?” She muttered to the empty room, realizing that she would be risking a lot with what she was about to do. Sitting up made her feel painfully weak, the light from the window was nearly blinding. “I better do this before I lose my nerve.” She closed her eyes, hoping against hope that she could assume her essence form without the Dracosinum, and as she thought herself into the small blue flame that hovered above her bed, her pale, bony body, fell back on the bed. She could only hope that Adrian would continue to be as attentive as he had been, and he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her body while it rested.

  She still felt weak in her essence form, and her vision was not very clear. Everything seemed shrouded in a blue haze, but at least the nausea and dizziness had faded. She could wholeheartedly admit that she hadn’t felt so good in the entire three weeks she’d been on Long Island. She felt the slightest smattering of hope begin to grow.

  Wafting out through the window, she floated happily above Long Island. The bright sun shone above her, its glowing rays dimmed somewhat by her hazy blue vision. How she longed to be in her human form, absorbing the warm rays. The entire time she had been shut up in her room, unable to have the strength to get out and walk around, she had longed for the heat of the sun to warm her bones.

  Wylie quieted her thoughts and tried to focus on the whereabouts of Quincy, or the Dracosinum, whichever she could sense first. But there was nothing. Not even the slightest inkling of their whereabouts. Oh gods, please help me! She screamed out in her subconscious. I wonder what my thoughts sound like to the gods. Perhaps it was just white noise to them, floating up amidst all the other cries for help. Please help! she repeated.

  At that very moment, something closed around her, and her entire world went black. Had the gods come to help? Whatever had encased her moved with such speed and so silently she hadn’t heard a thing. Then she felt herself being transported. Where are we going? Maybe the gods are taking me to Quincy! she thought excitedly.

  After a bit, the movement stopped, and she could feel herself being lowered until whatever she was encased in hit a solid surface.

  “Wylie, Wylie m’dear? Can you hear me?” Came an all too familiar, but sinister voice. A voice she had hoped she would never hear again.

  Lord Ukridge! She screamed, though she made no sound outwardly.

  “Oh well, no matter. I don’t imagine I could hear you, even if you were talking,” he continued. “You should have stayed in bed, my dear. I had no desire to come after you when you were sick and dying. However, your essence, that is slightly more worrisome. Not sure you could actually do any damage or find your Dracosinum, not without some powerful magic. As for help from the gods, oddly enough, they are being painfully quiet, aren’t they, my dear?

  “It’s surprising really if you knew just how much damage I’ve caused, the lives I’ve taken. The fires in — what’s it called? Oh yes — San Francisco — so much damage. So much money wasted. Really, I’m just picking on them. It’s almost too easy and the winds that carried my fires? Perfectly timed, almost as if they’re helping me. I’m nearly convinced that there aren’t any gods. Perhaps our lineage, what you are, what I am, perhaps we are the gods, and all that other mumbo jumbo in your journal is just a polite bedtime story.

  “Yes, I read your journal. It’s highly entertaining. You really shouldn’t leave it around for just anyone to find. That’s not very wise on your part.”

  Buggered! Her journal had gone missing, and she hadn’t even noticed its absence. Had it happened on the ship or in Oyster Bay?

  She thrust her tiny blue form against the wall of her containment, attempting to pass through it, but she hit a wall.

  How can I hit a wall in my essence form? She had always been able to go through any sort of barrier before.

  “What’s the matter, dear? Finding the space a bit limiting?” Of course, she couldn’t answer, but if she was having this same experience as a human, she would not be faring very well. “Oh, I know. You can’t escape? Well, for one thing, you’re inside my Dracosinum, which has its Siapheg magic, and secondly, your little friend Jacob, he’s quite brilliant, actually.

  “So brilliant he taught me a little spell to keep you locked inside. With your Dracosinum thousands of miles away, and you locked in my Dracosinum, you are powerless. So, let me tell you what happens next. Instead of wasting away in your bed until you die, with your beloved Adrian by your side, you will remain here until you are too weak to do anything else. Slowly but surely your essence will just fade out, and then you will cease to exist. Never to be heard from again."

  Jacob’s name played over in her mind, repeating itself like a special code she was trying to remember. Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. He had taught Lord Ukridge a spell to keep her locked inside the Dracosinum? How was that possible? Jacob was a boy! A mere boy! Lord Ukridge kept prattling on through her wild thoughts.

  “Then, I will remain the one in power, the one and only Siapheg, balancing the evil, or rather, unbalancing the evil until it’s so out of balance and the world is so hopeless, that the weak will simply just disintegrate. They will cease to exist, just like you. Then, only the best, the most important, and the worthiest will remain. We will pave the way for a new future, a glorious era of aristocracy and…” he stopped talking. “This would be so much more gratifying if you could protest. Anyway, I’m not going to waste any more of your time. I have things to do now that I have you trapped.”

  Jameston finally went quiet, and then she felt herself become airborne again. She assumed that his Dracosinum, with her inside, was making its way around his neck, its rightful place, as he took his dragon form. Wylie could now feel that they were soaring as the altitude changed. It was something about the way she hovered in the Dracosinum, and how it seemed to float.

  Why aren’t the gods helping me? Lord Ukridge will just trap me here forever! Please help me! Please! Only the empty space around made no reply.

  Chapter Nine

  Lord McCollum rose from the floor, his hands covered in grease and dirt from assembling the boiler. Lamplight reflected off the shiny new assembly giving the room a serene glow.

  The Professor, Jacob, and Cyrus had long since gone inside for supper. However, Adrian was too eager to complete the assembly of this all important part of the reconstruction of his steam carriage. He had purposely made it larger and sleeker looking than the original as he now had more experience and a strong desire to make it even better than the first.

  As he extinguished the lantern and left the barn, he shut the doors behind him and set the lock securely in place. He couldn’t help but wonder how much time he had left with Wylie.

  It had crossed his mind more than once that in her condition, she should have long since passed. It had now been three days since she had even wakened enough to eat or drink anything. There were times when she slept so soundly, her breathing so shallow, she seemed dead already. He could feel his eyes brim and an unwelcome lump form in his throat. No, Adrian, h
old it together. She’s made it this far, she’s a fighter. If she hasn’t given up on herself, you can’t give up on her. He shook his head to rid himself of the sad thoughts that had begun to form.

  He was now even more anxious to get up to her room so he could check on her and make sure that she was still breathing.

  “Ah, there you are Lord McCollum! How are you progressing with your pusher?”

  “I now have the boiler completed, Professor. However, the entire undercarriage will need to be rebuilt before it can be installed.”

  “Well, I’ve allotted resources for that in the numbers I put together earlier, so rest assured, you have my full backing.”

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Tis my pleasure, Lord McCollum.” The man smiled, wisdom etched in the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, his white beard lifting with the upturn of his mouth.

  “Please, just call me Adrian.”

  “Well, then you must just call me Cornelius, no more of this Professor nonsense.”

  “You got it! Have you seen Cyrus and Jacob?”

  “I believe they’ve retired for the night, Adrian, it is quite late.”

  “Very well.” Adrian headed up the stairs to see Wylie. His heart was already greatly pained at the sight of her pale, thin face, slowly wasting away. If only there was something I could do!

  He slowly pushed open the door to her room, and as he entered, the position of her body told him something was terribly wrong. Her legs extended off the side of the bed, and her body lay crosswise in the center. Her head lolled to one side, her hair askew as if someone had picked her up and dropped her suddenly.

  “No!” He cried out. “No, no, no, no!” He ran to her side, putting his hand on her chest to feel for her heartbeat. There was none, no breathing, and no sign of life whatsoever. “NOOoooooooo!” He yelled as loudly as he could, alerting the others in the hotel. Within moments, Cornelius, Jacob, Cyrus, and several servants were all at the door.

  “What? What happened?” A clamoring of voices all fought to talk over each other.

  Cornelius entered the room and urged the others to stay back. Adrian had scooped Wylie’s lifeless body up in his arms and all the tears, the pain, everything he had been holding burst to the surface and spilled out.

  “Adrian, does she need a doctor?” Cornelius said softly.

  “No, it’s too late.”

  “Very well, I will make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Thank you,” Adrian said, in a muffled tone. He nestled his nose into her shoulder as he pulled a blanket around her body. Anything to warm her up, if he could just get her warm, if he could just hold her tight enough. Wylie did not respond. She was gone, and instead of planning time together with the love of his life, he would be planning her funeral.

  He refused to let her go, even long past the time that rigor mortis should have set in. A fact which the doctor made note of.

  “How long since the woman has passed?” he asked, as he made notes and meticulously studied her body. “The poor thing looks as if she died days ago, almost as if she was starved to death.”

  The Professor and Lord McCollum cast worried glances at each other, and just as Adrian was about to speak up, Cyrus stepped forward.

  “Doctor, I can attest to the fact that Milord and Professor Cornelius have given her lady-ship the utmost of attention. She took ill the moment we arrived here from the SS Baltic and never recovered.”

  “Hmm, interesting indeed. Any idea if anyone else was sick around her or if anyone has gotten sick since?”

  “No doctor, we’ve all been in perfect health,” Professor Cornelius stated.

  “Well, nevertheless, I will be testing her body for arsenic and other toxins.” Adrian could feel the color drain from his face as the whole room began to spin.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Arsenic and other toxins?” he questioned.

  “Well, yes, if it’s true she was in perfect health until arriving here, and no one else has exhibited any symptoms of illness, then I must determine if she may have been poisoned. There was a case in England of some children and their father. Their bodies were so emaciated, no one could determine the cause of death. It turned out the wife and mother was slowly poisoning them with arsenic. Sarah Chesham, you may have heard the story? I saw the pictures of the children and husband, and unfortunately, this young woman’s body has similar characteristics. I will be alerting the proper authorities as well. It’s my duty.”

  “You can’t be serious! Nothing more happened to this woman than she died of some mysterious illness that doesn’t seem to be affecting any of us. Perhaps she acquired it at sea? Why immediately jump to the conclusion she was poisoned?” The professor’s face had reddened, his brows furrowed into an angry scowl.

  “It’s just a matter of precaution,” the doctor replied.

  “Please, can we just have an uninterrupted burial? I want her to have a proper funeral. Though she has no family, and no one here who will come to view the body, I still want to wait the three days as is what is right and proper,” Adrian forced himself to say. The words hardly made sense to his own ears. He realized he was pleading with the doctor to allow his Wylie not to be cut open for medical reasons. Surely, she couldn’t be dead?

  “Something else I find particularly odd,” the doctor interrupted Adrian’s thoughts. “She’s past the point when what’s commonly known as rigor mortis should have set in. However, from my observation, her body remains entirely flexible at this point. Another reason to suspect poison. It’s almost as if she is only in a deep sleep.” The doctor scratched his head. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to telegraph the police.”

  “Absolutely, let me show you to my office, doctor.” Professor Cornelius motioned for the doctor to follow him out of the room. Almost as if she is in a deep sleep? Adrian repeated in his mind what the doctor had just said. What if that were true? But the Dracosinum is missing. How could she have left her body without the Dracosinum? Was that a possibility? She hadn’t explained the whole process to him. Was there something he didn’t understand about the whole thing?

  He knew that she transformed into a dragon form called the Teselym. He had read that in her journal. Specifically, she was a race of dragon known as a Dragaleth. A race of dragons who oversees the balance of good and evil on Earth. The Dragaleth is a combination of two dragons, one of the order of Teselym, which was Wylie, and the other of Siapheg, which they had discovered was his former fiancé, Judith.

  Wylie had lived for the past year with the guilt of killing Judith, who was also her best friend, and knowing that Lord Ukridge, Judith’s father, was now the Siapheg was no comfort to either of them. Wylie as the Teselym was meant to protect humanity from evil and execute justice when necessary. The Teselym also enacted the balance of good while the Siapheg was meant to perpetrate evil and ensure that humanity would never be entirely free from the sadness of death, betrayal, and lies.

  As far as Adrian could tell from his discussions with Wylie, Lord Ukridge was holding up his balance quite well. What he couldn’t figure out, was at what point the gods would intervene. Essentially, Wylie, the good balance was now out of the picture, so who was shouldering that responsibility? If only he could find her journal and re-read all the details. He knew she had to have added her own notes; he had witnessed her writing in it many times.

  Adrian gently slipped his arms out from under Wylie’s body, repositioning her so that her head rested on the pillow. Then he raised her legs onto the bed and pulled a blanket over her. She looked sickly pale, but most certainly not dead. It was almost as if she might sit up, and weakly say hello at any moment, as she had done in the past few weeks.

  “Can we help you with anything, Milord?” Cyrus stepped forward. Adrian gave him a cautious look up and down. Did he dare trust him?

  “Well, I suppose I need all the help I can get. Wylie has a journal, she writes in it every day. I need to find it, to see if there is anything that can give me a clue as
to who may have poisoned her. Maybe she had some warning before she died?” Adrian didn’t trust anyone enough at that moment to let on what he thought the truth might be. Maybe she didn’t need the Dracosinum to transport wherever it was she had transported to or maybe she had simply left her body to look for her Dracosinum.

  “Can you two please help me look for it? And the rest of you, can you please assist Professor Cornelius in whatever way he needs? We must prepare for her funeral.” He only hoped he could hold everyone off for three days so that he could find her journal and go look for her Dracosinum, or at least Lord Ukridge, personally.

  The servants nodded in succession and left one after the other. Patrons of the upcoming event, as well as other inventors, had been drawn in by the hubbub and they now left the room as well.

  “Yes, of course.” Cyrus agreed.

  “What do you think you are going to find, Milord?” Jacob questioned, the youthful curiosity in his eyes only surpassed by the innocent expression on his face.

  “Honestly, I just need to find the journal. I think it will answer many of the questions I need answers for.”

  “What if it doesn’t? Do you honestly think someone poisoned Wylie?” It was Cyrus’s turn to be curious, his lips set grimly in an expression of deep concern.

  “It makes no sense to think someone poisoned her which is why I must find the journal. I need to know if there was something going on that I don’t know about. Maybe she was afraid of something and made note of it in her diary.” Adrian was getting slightly annoyed by their questions while the urgency of the situation was growing with each passing moment. The idea of three days was like a bright road sign and remained uppermost in his thoughts. “Please gentleman, if you would be so kind, we need to find that journal.”

  His tone had changed from that of a pained man who had lost his wife, to that of someone on a critical mission. He would not allow anyone to stand in his way. Without another word, both his footman and stable boy went immediately to work. They left nothing unturned in the room as they searched for any sign of the journal. Then the police came and did the same, scouring every corner of her room for evidence.