By
Angela Townsend
Clean Teen Publishing
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by: Angela Townsend
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address:
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To my family who taught me to go after my dreams
To my sons, Grant and Levi who taught me that love is endless
To Milton Datsopoulos and Diane Larsen who taught me the value of friendship
And to
Dale McGarvey
Who taught me to never give up.
Chapter 1: The Company of Kings
Chapter 2: Island of Druids
Chapter 3: Eye of the Cat
Chapter 4: Tomb of the Kings
Chapter 5: Street of the Dead
Chapter 6: The Well of Eternal Youth
Chapter 7: The Black Dragon
Chapter 8: Fingal’s Cave
Chapter 9: The Hall of Kings
Chapter 10: Protected Passage
Chapter 11: The Hall of the Banshee
Chapter 12: The Hall of Merrows
Chapter 13: Rest at Last
Chapter 14: The Journey
Chapter 15: A Lesson in Giants
Chapter 16: The Floating Market
Chapter 17: Zephandale
Chapter 18: An Equal Trade
Chapter 19: City of the Dead
Chapter 20: Homecoming
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Coming Soon
1
New York City, 2013
Gloomy shadows crept across the tired oak floor, stealing what little light peered in through a set of stained glass windows. A dying fire crackled in the corner, its golden embers fading as quickly as the old man who lay near it.
Angus MacBain stood at the foot of his grandfather’s four-poster bed, his hope slipping away with every rattling exhale from the old man’s lungs. Cocooned in a series of heavy plaid blankets bearing the family tartan, Duncan MacBain struggled to free a withered hand. He motioned for his grandson to come closer. Angus took a few stumbling steps, sank to his knees, and grasped the thin hand in his.
Duncan raised his head from the pillow. His eyes seemed to glow in the dimness of the bedroom. Gnarled fingers pressed something hard and bulky into Angus’ palm, then closed his hand around it and squeezed. The object cut into the boy’s flesh, but he didn’t try to pull away.
“You’re thirteen now, almost a man. You’ve got to be brave. Remember, you’re a MacBain.” The old man inhaled another ragged breath. “The arrangements have already been made. There will be no funeral. I’m sending you to Scotland—to Iona. You must leave now.” His grandfather’s steely eyes pinned Angus to the floor. “Strange things will happen—things that—just be careful, lad.”
“No, I won’t go. Not without you.” He buried his head in his grandfather’s chest. Angus’ throat constricted like a drawstring jerked tight. Tears sprang to his eyes.
“Don’t cry for me, laddie. I’ll be in the company of kings.”
With that, Duncan MacBain heaved his final breath.
Angus squeezed his eyes shut. After a weary moment, he opened them to gaze at his grandfather’s motionless body. With the tension removed from the old Scotsman’s features, he looked relaxed, at peace. Even so, a bitter rush of sadness swept through Angus and the hole in his heart his grandfather had filled when his parents died, now returned. Angus’ chest tightened. Every breath seemed to take more effort than it was worth.
The palm of his hand throbbed. He unclenched his fist and examined an amulet attached to a heavy chain. It looked old, perhaps even ancient, with a silver long-tailed dragon clutching a purple thistle in its talons. Words scribed in a foreign language glistened on its wings.
His father had worn a dragon amulet. Angus frowned trying to remember what it looked like. Did it also have a thistle? Could it be the same one? He’d been so young when his father died, he couldn’t remember. He slipped it around his neck, the amulet warm against his chest.
“I’ll take care of it,” Angus whispered. “I promise.”
Angus made his way down the narrow hallway to Grandfather’s study. An antique clock ticked solemnly on the mantel. Without grandfather, the room seemed so different. Barren. Unfriendly. Cold. He fell into a cushy gray recliner that always reminded him of elephant skin and let it swallow him. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few moments, he’d wake up and it would have all been some kind of terrible dream. But no matter how he tried he couldn’t keep his eyes shut.
His gaze traveled over the towering bookcases lining the walls, filled with ancient volumes bound by his grandfather’s hands. Silent rows of books stared back at him, like leather corpses resting in their tombs. On a nearby workbench, marbled scraps of leather, paste, and a rounding hammer gathered around a dusty press.
Angus’ throat burned. He’d never be his grandfather’s apprentice again, never help him repair old books about castles, dragons, and other tales.
Now he had no one, except Grandfather’s nurse, Vera. Even though she was very nice, he barely knew her.
Angus shuffled down the hallway to his lonely room and packed his things. He made sure he had his games and the favorite collection of vampire tales his grandfather had bound for him. He flopped onto his twin bed and glanced at his watch. Angus’ heart twisted. Very soon, Nurse Vera would take him to the airport and he’d fly to a strange place he’d only heard stories about.
Angus scanned his bedroom for the last time, memorizing every detail so he’d never forget. Bare spots on the wall stared back at him, places where his Dracula posters once hung. In a fit of misery, he’d torn them down and ripped them to shreds.
There was no such thing as vampires and other magical creatures. Life wasn’t about fairy tales, only heartache, despair, and death.
Angus narrowed his eyes. If only death were a living thing—he’d destroy it. Make it suffer for ripping away all the people in his life that had loved him. Rage and frustration twisted inside of him.
Angus grabbed an antique sword hanging on his bedroom wall and stabbed it into the center of his mattress. Sparks flew from the bed. Celtic swirls carved into the handle of the sword started to spin. A banging sound hammered into his head like being trapped in a giant bell. He fell to his knees, covering his ears. The noise died down and a voice broke into his head.
“Are you all right, Dear?”
Angus uncovered his ears and peered up at Nurse Vera. She never called him by name just, “Dear.” Nurse Vera glanced at her watch. “I’ll help you pack your things, then it’s off to the airport with you.” Nurse Vera placed a hand on Angus’ forehead. “You look so tired and it’s such a long flight. Promise me you’ll try to get some rest on the plane, Dear.”
Angus nodded. He waited for Nurse Vera to see the sword and scold him for messing with something so dangerous, but she just stood there, her eyes filled with concern. Angus glanced at the bed
to look at the sword—but the sword was gone.
****
Angus stood in the cold terminal of the airport, turned and waved goodbye to Nurse Vera who was dabbing the corners of her eyes with a pink hankie. She lifted her chin, forced a smile, and nodded goodbye.
Angus’ heart sank as he boarded the plane, clutching his ticket stub in one hand and his Game Slayer in the other. Even though his heart felt like a giant sinking stone, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sword. How it had made his hand ache, the strange ringing in his ears, the way it suddenly vanished. Grandfather had told him it was a replica of a real sword used by the MacBain’s in battle. A weapon made of ancient iron, forged by great men and capable of slicing through a human body with a single swipe.
Angus shuddered and buckled his seatbelt. He pulled it tight and checked it twice. He’d never flown in an airplane before and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the horrible things that could go wrong.
Minutes later the plane rumbled down the runway. Angus squeezed the arms of his seat and held his breath as they lifted into the air. When the aircraft leveled out, he inhaled several deep breaths and looked around. The plane was half full, a mix of businessmen and old people. Thankfully, the seat next to his remained empty. He didn’t feel like talking, especially to a stranger.
The plane suddenly dropped, then jerked upright and shook like a car speeding over a bumpy road. Angus clamped his eyes shut and his stomach lurched.
“Won’t do you much good closing your eyes,” a bossy voice said. “It won’t stop the plane from crashing.”
Startled, Angus sat upright. A skinny girl with curly blonde hair, stood next to him. Her eyes twinkled behind a pair of pink glasses with silver glitter around the frames. Angus’ cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’ve never flown before. Guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Oh, don’t worry. If we crash I’m sure you won’t feel a thing, unless your seat gets ripped out of the plane or something. I’d be sure you have some identification in your pocket so they know who you are…just in case.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “They don’t call an airport ‘the terminal’ for no reason.”
Angus gulped.
The girl giggled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She pushed her glasses higher up onto the bridge of her nose. “I’ve flown loads of times. There’s really nothing to worry about. Where are you going?”
“Scotland.”
“No kidding,” she teased. “Where in Scotland?”
“Vanora?” In the aisle three rows ahead, a middle-aged man wearing a tweed suit and wire spectacles motioned for the girl to return to her seat.
“Oops. Better go.” She wiggled two fingers in the air, then made her way to her seat.
After settling in next to the man, Vanora glanced over her shoulder and gave Angus a friendly smile. He smiled back, feeling a twinge of loneliness and the urge to see how firmly his seat was bolted to the floor.
Angus stared out the little window. Anything to distract himself from the fear in the pit of his stomach.
Fluffy clouds thick as marshmallows surrounded the wing, then dissipated into thin wisps. Off in the distance, a dark fog grew in size and rushed toward the plane. As it got closer, Angus realized it was flying black insects—hundreds of them. They swarmed into the engines. The jet sputtered and shook. One of the bugs smacked his window like a bullet. Angus jerked back. The creature wasn’t swept away on the fierce wind that must be passing the plane; somehow it clung to the glass. Worse still, the thing seemed to be staring at him. Glaring with rectangular- shaped eyes. Angry eyes. Its six-inch body appeared to be made of metal with needle-sharp legs.
Almost as one the cloud of insects drew away from the engine housing, hovered a second—he could’ve sworn they were staring right at him—then retreated. A great ball of fire flared out of the engine. Thick smoke streamed from the wing. Angus snapped off his seatbelt and leapt to his feet, knocking his Game Slayer to the floor.
“Fire!” he yelled.
An old woman sitting four rows ahead, whirled around and gasped. All heads turned in his direction, staring, mouths open.
A flight attendant ran to his side. Angus pointed out the window. She crouched over him and peered outside.
“What fire? I don’t see any fire.” She straightened up, smiled sympathetically, and ruffled his hair. “Maybe you just had a bad dream.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I saw a swarm of insects attack the engine and then fire shot out of it. Didn’t you feel the plane shake?”
She shook her head and patted his arm. “I’m sure you’re just nervous.” She glanced up and down the aisle at the people staring at them. In a low voice she said, “Sit down and relax. You’re scaring the other passengers.”
Angus sat down, picked up his Game Slayer and stared out the window again. The wing and engine appeared normal. The insects were nowhere in sight. Where could they have gone?
The lights dimmed inside the cabin and the flight attendant handed him a boxy pillow and a small, cotton blanket. Angus stuffed the pillow behind his head and snuggled under the thin material. It didn’t cover him very well, but most blankets didn’t. He’d always been big for his age, which made things hard at school. Kids could be such jerks. Always poking fun and running away before he could catch them.
Angus tried to fall asleep, but worries kept rolling over in his mind. Was he seeing things? First the sword and then the insects. His gut knotted. And what about the people at his grandfather’s estate? Would they like him? Grandfather had spoken of a great aunt, whom neither of them had ever met. She had married his grandfather’s brother, who mysteriously died the day after the wedding. Would she want to bother with some kid she didn’t even know?
Angus closed his tired eyes, shutting it all out and fell into a restless sleep.
****
“Good morning, friend,” a voice crooned.
Angus yawned and peered out from under one eyelid. Across the aisle a strange man in a black cloak and purple vest gazed at him. He was tall and thin and, judging by the gray in his woolly beard and short-cropped hair, nearly as old as his grandfather. The man had a square jaw, a long thin nose, and intense green eyes the color of an artichoke.
“My name is Fane Vargovic.” He extended his hand across the aisle.
Angus stretched and tried to blink away the fuzziness in his head. “Nice to meet you,” he said, but before he could introduce himself, the man leaned forward, glaring at his neck.
The green eyes snapped. “May I see your dragon charm?”
Angus yanked back his hand, not liking the way the stranger licked his lips and stared at his amulet. “No, sorry, I never take it off.”
“Well, fine. Be that way about it.” Fane crossed his legs and turned his back.
For a moment, Angus felt bad for being so abrupt, but not a second later, the man swung around. His eyes twinkled. “I’ll give you ten Celtic coins for it.”
“Huh?”
“Ancient coins, for your amulet.”
“Uh…I don’t think so. It’s—”
An overpowering aroma, like fried onions, wafted around them. What was that horrid smell? As if reading his mind, Fane pulled a long chain of garlic bulbs from his pocket.
“I hunt vampires every summer. That’s why I carry garlic.” He wiggled the thing in the air. By this time, several other passengers were listening and snickering. Angus hunkered down in his seat, wishing he could disappear.
“I really can’t afford to have one sneak up on me, you know,” Fane Vargovic continued. “Wouldn’t be good for business. Now back to that amulet, what will you take for it?”
“It-it was a gift,” Angus closed the palm of his hand over the dragon, holding it against his chest. “From my grandfather. I won’t sell it.” He looked out the window, avoiding eye contact with the strange man.
“Not even for the right price, Angus MacBain?”
Angus jolted upright. �
�How do you know my name?”
Before the stranger could answer, the flight attendant came down the aisle pushing a silver cart full of snacks and drinks. Angus selected a package of pretzels and orange juice. By the time the cart moved out of the way, the man had vanished. Where did he go? Angus pulled apart the cellophane wrapping. Something was wrong. There was no comforting thump of the dragon charm against his chest. He reached inside his T-shirt—maybe it slipped down inside. Nothing. His amulet was gone. And so was the stranger.
Angus leapt from his seat, sprinting down the aisle. He couldn’t have gotten off the plane. He had to be somewhere.
“Good morning, this is the captain,” squeaked a voice from a ceiling speaker. “We will be reaching our final destination soon. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until the plane has landed. Thank you.”
Angus returned to his seat feeling sick. His grandfather would have been so disappointed. He had entrusted the amulet to his care and now just hours later, he’d let someone steal it.
“Looking for this?” a voice said behind him. Angus twisted around in his seat. The weird man now sat behind him, swinging his amulet back and forth like a pendulum. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep it for you until we land.”
Angus gritted his teeth. “I’d rather have it now.”
“Oh, very well, here you go.” Fane handed over the item with a regretful sigh. “No need to put up a big fuss. And you better look out, we’re coming in for a landing.”
Angus snatched the pendant, inspected it to make sure it was the same one, and slipped it on. He glanced out the window. The plane flew low over glistening lochs, remote glens, and emerald fields. The aircraft slowed and lowered its landing gear with a thump. The wheels bumped along an asphalt strip. Angus stuffed his Game Slayer into his pocket and gripped the armrest.
For the first time since Grandfather became ill, Angus felt a sense of excitement. He couldn’t wait to explore Scotland. During their time together, his grandfather had told him so many exciting stories about the land and his Iron Age ancestors. He made it sound mysterious and magical. Angus held one hand protectively around the amulet as he disembarked from the plane.
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 1
