Lenna and the Last Dragon

by James Comins

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Revelations

  or, The Angels Told Me Your Name

  “The question,” Pol O’Donnell reminded Bres.

  A scowl marred his graceful face. “Set the Fomor free and return them to the ocean. I’ll command them to bring your horse and carriage to you, mo beagán, my little one.”

  Mo Bagohn’s jaw clenched at the words. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “Very well,” said Bres.

  Talvi and Kaldi looked at each other. They were both angry.

  Kaldi said: “You’re our father? Truly? Talvi and I are half-brothers?”

  “Yes, Caoilte,” sighed Bres, throwing the edges of his cape out and settling himself back on the jeweled armrest of his terrible seat. “You two are both my sons.”

  “You thought nothing of leaving us? You didn’t even say goodbye,” Kaldi replied.

  “I stayed with you in Iceland, away from my beloved home, for two hundred years. Was it not enough?” Bres flicked his long hair and turned away. “Long have I waited here for you two to come looking for your father, even as I went looking for mine.”

  “Mother Brugda told us you were dead,” Talvi broke in.

  “Yes, I see that now, Taillvin. Even at seven hundred I was young and foolish. I misunderstood her, as I have always done.”

  Kaldi came forward. Lenna had never seen so much hurt and confusion on his face. “You never told me that Brugda wasn’t my mother,” he said to Bres. “You never introduced me to Mother Bagohn.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why?” shouted Kaldi.

  “You’re my son. That’s what’s important.”

  Kaldi leapt high to the pedestal, picked up the gold hammer and threw it at Bres. Golden hair fell like water as the High King pushed himself backwards off the armrest of his throne and slid bodily backward to the floor beneath the arch. The spinning hammer hit the floor beside his head, and the floor changed to clay like a boot cracking open a frozen puddle.

  “Should’ve told you,” mumbled Brugda, huddled in her pink dress on the floor. Aitta sat with her; Talvi gripped Kaldi’s shoulder.

  “Where’s Binnan Darnan?” Lenna demanded.

  Bres’ breath heaved in heaved out heaved in. “Time. Give me time.” Gasping, he trained his eyes on Ljos and Indaell, who stood impassively at either side of the throne. Kaldi’s face was red. He slumped, clenching his hands, clutch clutch, like claws. Indaell had a snarky smile. Bres lifted himself to his shaky feet and slipped sideways onto his golden-threaded throne.

  “I will deal with you later, Caoilte. Lenna. You want to know where your friend is.”

  “Mm-hm,” she said.

  “I will make you a deal, Lenna. I have a thing you’ll have to do for me if you want to see your friend again. But first--”

  “Jost answer the damn question,” Pol said sharply. “Where’s the lass?”

  “And--” Lenna added. She frowned. Something wasn’t right. “And how did you know my name?”

  “The angels told me your name,” said Bres. “They’ve gone from church to church waiting for anyone who can see magic. Once they found you, I bade them bring you here.”

  “But but. Hm. Where’s Binnan Darnan? You must answer the question. You said.”

  “She’s in the next room. Only I can let her out, and I'll make you a deal.”

  “No!” shouted Kaldi. “Let her go or I’ll kill you!”

  Annie Morgan nodded approvingly.

  “If you kill me, she can never be released. She’ll die in there.”

  Kaldi punched a gold something-or-other in frustration and hurt his hand.

  “What deal do you want me to make, Mr. Bres?” Lenna held her head up, as brave as she could. It would be good if Andy saw her being brave.

  “Go with, with her--” Bres pointed to Mo Bagohn--“and rescue my people from their fate. If you do, I will release your friend, Lenna. There’s a second thing I desire as well. Intlás tells me you can summon the face of a faraway person?”

  Lenna scowled. She didn’t like being spied on. “Uh huh.”

  “After you free the Fomor, summon my mother and tell her what’s happened. Tell her that you’ve freed her people from the curse of the Old Ones. Do this and I will release you and Brugda from Intlás’ curse. Do you agree?”

  “I don’t like you--” Lenna began.

  “It was you laid the lightning on me!” Brugda shouted to Bres, wiping her tears away. “You who let the brute into my mind! You who sent the monster to tear the house away! You who sent the whirlwind!”

  “What monster? What whirlwind? Lés? Intlás? Was this your foolery?”

  Ljos and Indaell faced each other on either side of the driftwood throne, mirror-images in gray robes. For a long moment the two angels registered each line on each other’s face.

  “It was not us,” said Ljos at last.

  “It might have been,” whispered Indaell.

  “It was not,” repeated Ljos. “My brother committed neither of those sins.”

  “Then there is still a Power against us,” sighed Brugda. She glared at Bres. “You had them blight my eyes.”

  “I wanted to blight the girl’s eyes,” hissed Indaell. “She chose yours instead.”

  “MmmmmMMMm. I’m sorry! I thought the angels were God’s angels. I thought they made everything okay. I thought I was inventing a new magic, Brugda. But they weren’t God’s angels, and they tricked me.”

  “Little Len. I’ve given you much to burn about.” Brugda lifted herself up and embraced Lenna, who snuggled worriedly against the old woman’s bonnetstraps.

  From Brugda’s shoulder, Lenna called, “I’ll save the Fomor for you, Mr. Bres. But I do not like you, and if you’ve hurt Binnan Darnan--” She frowned. “Wait. Binnan Darnan said there were Fomors with her on the daedelus. But you said they’re trapped! And, and you aren’t lying. I’d know.”

  Ljos and Indaell dissolved into mist. From the mist came red, glowing ruby eyes and claws drenched in sticky blood.

  “Aaa!”

  Then they were solemn angels again, just as Lenna blinked.

  “Ye’re a cruel man, Bres,” said Pol.

  “I am who I am. Now go and do as I bid.”

  “One more asking,” said Brugda. “A dragon told us to find a fisherman who knows the Power that struck us. Are you that fisherman?”

  “No.”

  Annie Morgan and Mo Bagohn led everyone away, stepping through the illusionary panel into the dripping cavern.

  “Andy,” said Pol outside the hidden entrance. “Wouldja give yar harp a strum?”

  Notes drifted from the silver strings as Andy plucked out a tune. Gold threads spun out and stuck onto the face of the illusionary panel. As the song ended, the threads vanished. A Celtic knot was burned into the phantom rock face like an ancient carving.

  “Aye, that’s it,” said Pol. Andy had a strained smile.

  The glowworm still glowed. Talvi and Aitta stayed close to Brugda. Pol held Emily’s hand. Lenna walked beside Andy thoughtfully. She felt drenched, as if she had just run inside after a rainstorm. The idea of having to do what Bres told her to do was the most disgusting thing ever. It was worse than dripping honey down your dress. Yuckers.

  They walked on. The journey out of the cave was slow, interminable, about to last forever until it suddenly ended at the cave mouth at high tide. It was night. Annie Morgan motioned everyone back and transformed into a crow as long as the empress. They stood carefully on her knobby back as she flapped great beats of air just above the hushed hiss of the tide. Lenna’s feet wobbled on the thin bony bird spine, which bent and heaved inches above the water. Then they were flying. She put her hands on Andy’s shoulders for balance. There was Aitta silent and close behind her and the fruit chemicals of Andy’s hair gel ahead.

  The night was warm, hot as an Iceland summer, really, and bursts of sea spray dabbled at her as the vibrating water broke and hit the rock. Belo
w them was the awful crooked stair, dropping away. Somewhere far below that was poor Wicklow, whom she hoped would not get too rusty or waterlogged.

  They rose above the cliffs and kept going. The shadow of eveningland stretching below them led to a town of primary colors, laced with blue and pink flowers.

  Annie landed at the outskirts and they walked down the lane lined with gold.

  “This is Doolin,” Mo Bagohn said. “Morning’s a better beginning, and that’s when we’ll begin this nonsense. Any disagreements?”

  “Bagohn,” husked Brugda. “I’d have your friendship, if you’ll give it.”

  Mo Bagohn sized her up. “When I saw you scamper to that man like a baby chipmunk, I had my doubts about you. But since then you’ve shown at least a button’s worth of good sense, and I’ll give you that friendship free of charge.”

  “Thank you.”

  They found rooms at a bed and breakfast, and Lenna went to sleep in a giant wooden bed, listening to a bedside crystal that scuzzed white noise after Andy tapped it for her.