Tears of a Dragon

by Bryan Davis

  Brogan nudged Bat with an elbow. “Mr. Collins, these two need rings to get in. If they don’t enter the theatre, then all is lost.”

  “Said is as good as done.” Mr. Collins pulled off his ring, and he and Brogan presented theirs to Billy and Bonnie.

  Billy waved his hands at the rings. “No. Without your rings, you’re stuck here. I can’t let you make that sacrifice.”

  “It is no sacrifice,” Mr. Collins said. “Without these rings, you cannot enter, and if you cannot enter, we are all lost.”

  Billy kept his hands raised. “Look, it’s really great that you’d do that, but there’s got to be another way. We didn’t come this far to be beaten just because we’re missing a ring or two.” He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching it as he gazed at their willing faces. “Okay, I need one of you to go inside and make sure everyone knows what’s going on so they don’t worry about us, and I need the other one to go with me in case I need help to rescue the people who want to come to the theatre.”

  “I’m going with you.” Brogan straightened his cap. “I’m younger and faster.”

  “I don’t suppose I can argue with that.” Mr. Collins pulled a chain and withdrew his pocket watch. “Only thirty minutes to go. Arguing would waste precious time.” He nodded and slipped his ring back on. “Godspeed to you all.”

  Chapter 15

  THE SACRIFICE

  Karen broke through the edge of the forest and crossed the deserted street, walking cautiously between Marilyn and Shiloh as they followed the professor and Carl toward the front entrance of the visitor center. Up above, nine dragons flew in tight circles over the lake, six with riders, who, for the most part, seemed comfortable on their spiny mounts, their commands echoing on the lake as they piloted the magnificent, shimmering creatures.

  A black stream shot through the sky, then another. Karen paused and searched for the source of the stream. There, near the edge of the forest! A Watcher. Two of them! Three! The winged demons soared through the early morning haze, firing rivers of darkness at the dragons. With pinpoint turns and sudden dives, two dragons flying in tandem dodged the missiles, one launching an inferno at the lead Watcher just before plummeting toward the lake.

  The demon darted out of the way, and the dragon’s blast knifed into the water, sending up a plume of steam. Streams of fire and darkness zipped across the sky, dragons and Watchers fighting in chaotic turmoil.

  Barlow’s voice resonated over the water. “Edmund! Tell the dragons to fall back and regroup!”

  A shrill whistle pierced the furious commotion, first a warbling, flute-like sound, then a blitz of screeches punching the air in short bursts. Like show planes flying in a precision drill, the dragons swept upward and formed a line, each one firing back at the Watchers to create a wall of flames.

  Karen felt a hand on her back. “Now, Karen,” Marilyn whispered as she swept past. “Mr. Foley is waving for us.”

  Karen jerked her head around and dashed forward, running as fast as she could to keep pace with Marilyn and Shiloh. As they closed in on the visitor center, she saw the professor and Carl on the wooden deck that skirted the center, hiding with their backs against a wall to the right of the entry.

  The professor raised a finger to his lips, and Carl signaled for everyone to stay low. The girls slowed to a jog, hunching and padding as quietly as they could on the planked walkway that stretched from the parking lot to the deck.

  As they approached, the professor whispered, “There’s a guard at the door, an especially ugly beast with black wings.” He withdrew Excalibur from its scabbard. “I will entice him into battle. When the door opens, you three sneak inside. Be as quiet as you can. Though they won’t be able to see you, they likely can still hear you.”

  With the sounds of combat raging overhead, Professor Hamilton lit up Excalibur. Holding the sword vertically, he stepped in front of the door.

  Shiloh stayed close to Marilyn as she inched around the corner next to the door. Karen tiptoed behind them, trying to ignore the awful screeches in the sky. The glass door flew open, and the black-winged demon glided out, a wrinkled smirk cracking his face. “Do you think that little toy can hurt me?”

  Karen froze at the sound of his nails-on-chalkboard voice. Marilyn sneaked past the Watcher, spun around, and gestured for the girls to follow. Shiloh grabbed Karen’s hand, pulling her so hard she almost toppled over.

  The professor kept his gaze locked on the demon. “Feel free to stand there and mock me, you foul devil. I await your move.”

  Staring at the demon’s hideous face, Karen tiptoed beside Shiloh, holding her breath as they passed. Marilyn pressed a finger against her lips and shepherded them into the center’s foyer. As the door clacked shut, Karen spun around. The Watcher stalked directly toward Professor Hamilton.

  Tightening his grip on the sword, he swept the beam across the demon’s waist, slicing through it like a knife through Jell-O. Karen leaped backwards to dodge the beam as it blazed through the glass door and into the visitor center. The Watcher let out an ear-shattering screech and lumbered closer to the professor, still intact. Suddenly, Carl lunged at the Watcher and tackled him to the ground.

  Marilyn grabbed Karen’s hand. “Let’s go,” she whispered urgently. “We have work to do.”

  Karen began to follow but caught a glimpse of the professor and Mr. Foley running away from the entry, a dazed Watcher stumbling after them. When they disappeared from sight, she turned her attention to Marilyn. The older woman crept along the hall with furtive steps, pausing at intervals to spray something onto the floor from a tiny aerosol bottle. As Karen followed, she noticed a flowery scent, pungent and sweet. She wrinkled her nose. Was it perfume?

  A huge display room dominated the upper floor of the center, providing no place to house prisoners. Marilyn tiptoed through the room and down a flight of stairs at the back, spraying the perfume every few steps. In spite of the dread crawling across her skin, Karen kept urging herself forward. “Girl power,” she kept repeating to herself. But with Mr. Foley and the professor fighting a powerful demon right outside the door, and male knights and female dragons in heated battle up above, her rally cry seemed kind of silly. They were all in this together. Karen firmed her chin. Now it was time for her to do her part.

  Walter rocked his head back and forth, trying to open his eyes, but his lids kept fluttering closed. A cool sensation bathed his forehead, like water trickling from a spring. Finally, he forced his lids up and held them open. His blurred vision slowly sharpened, the shape of a woman’s face becoming clearer and clearer.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” She dipped a cloth into a basin of water and squeezed a few drops on his forehead, then gently wiped his face. “He’s coming around, Pebbles. Can you get another ice cube?”

  Walter heard the patter of shoes, then a halt, then the patter returning. “No more ice,” a little girl’s voice announced.

  “That’s okay, honey. This will be enough. Just go sit with your book. I’ll read to you in a minute.”

  The sweet massage continued, the scent of his mother’s subtle cologne making him feel like a little kid again. “The Watchers don’t give us much,” she explained. “Just whatever they can steal from the vending machines, crackers and ice chips mostly.”

  Walter’s memory snapped back to life. “The Watchers!” He pushed the cloth away and bolted to a sitting position. His head ached and the whole world spun, but he managed to clamber to his feet, shifting his weight back and forth and spreading his arms to keep his balance. “Where are we?”

  “The Deep Creek Lake Discovery Center.” She laid a hand on a four-foot-wide metallic box. “Locked in the furnace room, apparently.”

  Walter grabbed a ladder leaning against the wall and braced his body. He opened a gray fuse box, then slapped it shut again. “Anything around to pry open the door?”

  “No. I tried a broomstick and a paint scraper, but they both snapped.” She pointed to a bro
om handle on the floor next to a mop, a bucket, and a jug of Mr. Clean.

  With the room still spinning, Walter sat down on the floor and buried his face in his hands. His legs and arms tingled as if every limb had fallen asleep and needed a good massage to wake up.

  He felt his mother’s touch on his shoulder. “Just rest, sweetheart. You probably have a concussion.”

  Bare fluorescent tubes flickered from the ceiling, casting a dancing white light that filtered between Walter’s fingers. “I can’t rest.” He watched a tiny roach skitter through the dust near the furnace. “I mean, who’s going to find us here? Nobody even knows where we are.”

  His mother’s voice stayed calm and reassuring. “God knows where we are.”

  “Okay, you got me there.” He lowered his hands and looked his mom in the eye. “I have faith and all that, but you know me. I’m the kind of guy who prays with his sword drawn.”

  She gently stroked the back of his head. “You and your father both.” She sighed and took his hands in hers, gripping them firmly. “These hands will do great things, Walter. I can’t believe God would craft such powerful tools, inflame a heart with godly passion, and then leave his handiwork locked and unused in a roach-infested closet.”

  “That’s a cool speech, Mom. Thanks.”

  “I practiced it while you were out cold.”

  The doorknob rattled. As the hinges squeaked and light poured into the room, Walter squinted through the dimness. A Watcher filled the doorway, clutching a leash that led to a huge, menacing dog.

  The demon—Walter recognized Samyaza immediately—stomped inside and pointed a clawed finger at him. “Morgan wants to see you. Follow me.”

  Still dizzy from the blow to his head, Walter stumbled through the hallway, following Samyaza and the dog. In his muddled vision, the demon seemed to bounce, like it was riding a hobbyhorse or playing hopscotch. As they passed by a staircase, Walter caught a glimpse of a shadow on the landing above. He slowed and strained his eyes. Was someone coming, or had he imagined the shadow? Samyaza flung open a door and barked, “Get in there. Morgan will be here soon.”

  Marilyn and the girls reached a landing and paused. The stairs reversed direction and descended to the lower floor. At the bottom, a Watcher with a leashed, multicolored dog at his side slammed a door to the left of the stairway.

  Marilyn pushed herself and the girls against the wall and flattened her body. Karen held her breath and pressed herself back as hard as she could. As the Watcher strolled past the stairwell, the dog’s head perked up, its blue and red ears twitching. It looked directly at the women and stalled, a low growl rumbling from its throat. The Watcher jerked the leash. “Keep moving. There’s nothing here.”

  The dog resisted, whining. It hung out its rainbow tongue, then barked, but the demon kept pulling it forward. “Yes, I smell it, too. Morgan’s hostiam is wearing perfume.” When it passed out of sight, Marilyn led the girls to the bottom of the stairs and peeked around the corner. Karen, standing on tiptoes one step above, stretched herself over Marilyn’s head and peeked with her. The Watcher and the dog passed by another demon standing next to a windowless door on the left. After the two demons exchanged a string of odd words, the dog and its handler entered an office just beyond the guarded room and closed the door.

  Marilyn crouched on the bottom stair, and the two girls leaned into a close huddle. She laid a hand on the back of each girl and whispered so softly, Karen could barely hear her. “Good job. Stay strong. Keep praying.” She stood again and gestured with her head for them to follow.

  Marilyn edged forward. The guard demon’s red eyes scanned the corridor. His head nearly touched the ceiling, and white armor covered his muscular physique. Karen gulped. What a monster! It definitely needed one more piece of armor, a helmet to cover its vampire teeth and ugly scowl.

  Marilyn walked right past the guard. She knocked on the outside of the door, then backed away.

  The Watcher put a hand on the knob. “What do you want in there?”

  Marilyn reached into her pocket and drew out her roll of tape. She sneaked up and knocked again.

  “Be quiet!” the demon barked.

  Marilyn peeled off three strips of tape and stuck them to her arm. She knocked a third time.

  The demon jammed a key into the lock and threw the door open. “Be quiet, or you’ll get no food or water tonight!”

  Reaching underneath the Watcher’s arm, Marilyn pressed the strips of tape over the latch. Then, pulling the little bottle out of her pocket, she sprayed a mist into the air and backed away. The Watcher sniffed, swiveling his head from side to side.

  Nausea rumbled in Karen’s stomach, worse than the airsickness on Merlin II. What was Mrs. Bannister up to? Wouldn’t the smell give them all away? Karen covered her mouth, knowing that spilling her guts would mean their deaths.

  The Watcher, still sniffing like a curious beagle, closed the door and walked right past Marilyn, Shiloh, and Karen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. After looking both ways in the hall, he took a long sniff and climbed the steps, disappearing from sight.

  “Come on,” Marilyn whispered. “Mrs. Foley and Pebbles are in there.” She pushed the door open, and the three slipped inside.

  Brogan led the way, running along a deserted street, then darting into an alley strewn with vegetable crates and various wilted greenery, mostly lettuce and carrot greens. Breathless, he leaned against a dirty wall, his gaze uplifted.

  Billy followed his line of sight. “The roof?”

  Brogan nodded. “We wouldn’t want to march right into their clutches now, would we?” He grabbed a crate and threw it on top of a larger one, then stepped up. Billy handed him another, and together they fashioned a staircase to the roof.

  Brogan tested it, marching quickly to the top, then back down again. It shook a bit, but it seemed stable enough. “Ladies first,” he said to Bonnie. “We’ll catch you if you fall.”

  Bonnie took the first two steps, but the staircase wobbled. Billy placed both hands on the precarious crate to secure it. “If I had my wings,” she said, “I’d fly us all up there.”

  Brogan laughed. “Oh, the angel has wings now, does she?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Bonnie made her way to the top, then looked back down, bracing her hands on her knees. “Next?”

  Billy, then Brogan, hurried to the roof. “You see”—Brogan pointed toward the town square—“we can make it all the way to the constabulary without going down again.”

  A throng still knotted the village hub, and unintelligible shouts rose to their ears. “I don’t like the looks of it,” Billy said, “but we’d better get going. Time’s running out.”

  Zigzagging from roof to roof, sometimes sidestepping along narrow ledges, they snaked their way to the roof of the constabulary. From there, the scene below was quite clear. Jasmine stood before the raging crowd, spitting venomous rhetoric. Ten people, five of them ladies, sat in the midst of a tight circle of men, their knees pulled up to their chests. Billy recognized Constance in the group of prisoners.

  A woman near the front of the crowd pointed at the roof. “There they are!”

  Jasmine spun around and looked up, smiling. “I knew you’d come back! Couldn’t bear to miss the excitement, could you?”

  Billy glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes left. “What are you going to do with these people?”

  Jasmine spread her arm toward the captives. “When the clock strikes three, we’ll let them go, but for now we want to shield these fools from you and your march to destruction.”

  Billy instinctively reached for his missing sword, but his hand swiped at air. The lack of a weapon sparked a memory, several lines of Merlin’s poem.

  A warrior comes with sword and shield,

  With truth and faith in hand,

  Exposing lies and cutting through

  The darkness in the land.

  Has eye not seen, has ear not heard,

  The love that sets men free
?

  From scales to flesh he softens hearts;

  From red to white he bleeds.

  Like a symphony of trumpeted words, all of Merlin’s prophecies came roaring back into his mind, so fast it sounded like an auctioneer’s voice played at double speed. Still, Billy comprehended every word, and now, for the first time, he understood what the poems had been trying to tell him for so long. Ever since his father had returned to his dragon form, he felt like he lost his dad, and the abyss in the seventh circle led him even farther away, ripping his father’s body from his soul. Billy’s search had consumed him ever since, but now he had to let it go. Jared Bannister had to decide his fate on his own.

  Ten sad faces in the circle of captives stared up at Billy, quiet and expectant. Each face represented an eternity of meaningless existence. Besides him, they had no other hope of salvation.

  Billy clenched a fist. There was simply no choice. It was time for him to give up everything for the sake of these lost souls who had nothing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll make a trade with you.”

  “A trade?” Jasmine whispered something to a man who then promptly dashed into the constabulary. She looked at Billy again, wincing at the sunshine. “I’m listening.”

  “For your part,” he said, pointing at the corralled people, “let them go to the theatre, and give me a dragon’s eye ring from one of your followers.”

  The man returned from the constabulary carrying a rope with a hangman’s noose fastened on the end. Jasmine took the rope and slid the knot up and down. “And for your part?”

  Billy gulped. A strange tingling sensation tickled his neck. He took a deep breath and pointed his thumb at his chest. “You can have me.”