“I-I think they already did.”
The giants had returned, their humungous bodies blocking out the daylight. Angus and Vanora scurried back to their hiding place, huddling together.
One of the giants approached. He bent, tilting his head to gaze at them. “Go away,” Angus said. “Leave us alone. We weren’t bothering you.” When the creature merely tilted his head the other way, Angus added, “Look, if you back off, we’ll go away.”
The giant crouched closer. Vanora seized the opportunity and launched a series of spit wads into its face. The first one missed and the second and third attempts hit him in the eye, cheek and hair. The giant stupidly picked the spit wads out of his hair and sniffed them. His eyes rolled back. He wobbled one way and then the other.
“Brace yourself,” Vanora warned, “I think we’re about to get squished.”
The creature landed with a crash, inches away, dead asleep.
Vanora wiped her hands. “That was easy.”
The third giant had remained back, watching all that happened. He cracked an evil grin and then bent around his fallen friend. A fat, calloused finger appeared. It groped inside the hole. Angus pushed Vanora behind him as it poked and prodded, trying to squish them.
“We have to get out of here!” Angus yelled.
“How? We’ll never get past him.”
The giant got down on one knee and studied the inside of the hole with bloodshot blue eyes. He raised a fist and bashed it into the entrance, widening it enough to get his hand inside. They tried to scramble out of the creatures reach, but the giant snatched Vanora out by her leg. Angus jumped forward to catch her but the creature had already pulled her out. The giant stood, holding her upside down, with one hand shielding his ear from her bone-chilling screams.
Angus crawled from the hole. He propped the shield on his back then raised the heavy sword. He gritted his teeth and brought the blade down on the creature’s toe. The giant let out a horrible cry and stomped at Angus with his other huge foot. Angus dodged the blow and scampered behind the giant
The creature pulled a long dagger from a sheath at his side and raised it into the air, prepared to stab Vanora.
Angus climbed to the top of a pile of ruined crypts, getting closer to the goliath’s head. The shield screamed a high-pitched wail that almost matched Vanora’s. Angus held it out in front of him and raised the MacBain sword.
The giant wrinkled his nose at the strange sounds and bent down to study the shield.
“Help me, Angus!” shrieked Vanora.
“I’m trying to!” He held the shield higher.
The giant stopped swinging Vanora as he peered at the shield, dumbfounded. His eyes glazed over and he dropped her. She screeched in terror as she fell. Angus turned his eyes away. He couldn’t watch his friend—after all they’d been through—fall to her death.
The giant staggered. His eyelids thickened. His drooling mouth hung slack. He staggered again, lurching toward Angus who held the shield and sword higher. Not that they’d be much protection if he landed on them. Back and forth the giant swayed till finally he fell to his knees and flopped onto his face.
The creature’s skin dried and crackled, looking like rivers etching toward the sea. As Angus watched, the flesh thickened and turned to stone. He ran around the downed giant, searching for Vanora.
“Vanora!” Angus screamed.
No answer. Panic seized his chest, making it hard to breathe. Where was she? He knew she’d fallen in this direction. There! Wasn’t that her sneaker?
Yes. He hurried to her. She was smiling at him!
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. I landed on blubbo or whatever his name is.”
Vanora got to her feet. “The shield,” she said, eyeing the third downed leviathan. “It must have to work together with the sword in order to activate its magical power. When the giant spotted his reflection in it, he turned to stone.”
Angus sighed. “Wish I would have known that before.”
A dark shadow had fallen over the graveyard. But it was much too early for nightfall. The shield sang again, this time a low ominous song. A deep chill seared into Angus’ bones and he froze. What was happening? Every plant and tree started to turn a smoke-stack gray.
“Angus, what’s wrong?” Vanora asked.
“Quick. He’s coming. You need to hide, somewhere close by so that I can protect you.”
“What about you?”
“Just do what I tell you. Please!”
Vanora hesitated only a second more, then ran to hide behind a tall tombstone.
Angus stood motionless and listened. An intense quiet filled the graveyard.
Too quiet.
Then he heard it.
Something horribly close.
Behind him, almost at his neck, the sound of hissing. Angus twisted around, sword and shield ready.
A gray fog undulated between the headstones like a serpent, floating closer. The mist stretched up and took the form of a very thin and tall body. A narrow head took shape on top of the slender form. A dark mouth opened. “A MacBain at last. So you think that you, a worthless child, can possess the power to defeat me? The great Dragomir?”
“Yes,” Angus snarled. He braced his legs beneath him. “I’ll do that… and worse.”
He held up the singing shield; and the wicked knight floated back, sinister laughter spewing from the black hole in his face.
“I smell sweet, delicious fear in your blood. In fact, I can almost taste it. But I will save that pleasure for later.”
Angus sneered. “It’s your own fear you smell. The fear of being hunted.” Angus paced forward. “And the knowledge that you are about to die.”
Dragomir chuckled. “You—a mere child—are no threat to me. Tell me, where is that weak and imprudent conjurer that’s been helping you? Cowering in a safe place while a dim-witted boy sacrifices himself? How brave.”
Angus held the sword before him. “You won’t think I’m so stupid when you’re trapped and rotting in your own grave.”
“Speaking of graves, aren’t you at least interested in what I did to your mother?”
Dragomir’s words stabbed into Angus’ heart and the vampire’s lips pulled back in satisfaction.
“Where is she?” Angus said, his voice cracking.
“Don’t you realize she could have easily brought you here, into her world? Yet she left you behind, to be raised by your decrepit grandfather?” The knight flicked invisible dust from his sleeve. “It’s pathetic, really… a mother who has no love for her child.”
Angus gripped the hilt of his sword until it bit into the palm of his hand.
“Funny how a seal could let her own husband drown, now isn’t it?” Dragomir said. “No matter, I’ll kill her for you. She’ll cry like a wee babe when I suck the very life out of her veins.”
Angus ran forward, raising his shield and sword before him. Dragomir smiled, letting him come. As Angus closed in, the earth gave way, dropping both of them into the belly of another dark crypt.
Dragomir floated to his feet, materializing into solid form. He was bloodless, tall and hairless except for a long white mustache that hung on his face like an iron bar. Robes of red swished around him. “Foolish boy, you cannot destroy me. I am immortal.” He stepped toward Angus.
Angus scooted back, fighting the panic that welled up inside him. He’d lost his grip on his shield. It lay somewhere near his feet, hidden in the rubble. Could he reach it before Dragomir?
“Now I will destroy you, your pathetic little friend, and that freakish creature you call a mother,” Dragomir sneered. As he spoke, he inched toward the shield. Angus backed away, he would never let him get it. “It is you who will lie eternally in this grave,” Dragomir’s said, his eyes settled on the shield. “Not even your family trinkets can stop me.”
Angus concentrated hard, trying to communicate with Fane, but Dragomir’s evil blocked him. He glanced around at the shadowy tomb. He had to do somet
hing before the evil knight could turn to vapor again and escape. Fear chiseled into his bones as Dragomir’s icy mist drew near.
“Don’t listen to him, Angus! He’s lying.” Vanora yelled, leaning over the hole, staring down at him. He glanced up at her and the expression of terror in her eyes made his heart race even harder. He adjusted his grip on the sword and wondered again if he could get to the shield in time.
“Lying? Me?” Dragomir’s laughter echoed in the chamber. “Others fall, including your pathetic grandfather and every MacBain before him, yet I still stand, centuries old!”
A vision of grandfather’s face flashed before Angus. He reached out to touch his amulet. Dragomir was mistaken; his grandfather wasn’t gone, not completely.
“I believe,” Angus said. “In the things I cannot see.” All at once, the power of the kings swirled around him, filling him with courage. He lunged forward, picked up his fallen shield and angled it toward the evil knight’s face. “Look at yourself,” he yelled as the shield’s green-glowing light glimmered off Dragomir’s black eyes. “How dare you talk about my grandfather. You’re a disgrace, hiding in the shadows with poison slithering around in your veins, while royal blood pulses in mine.”
Dragomir yowled in fury, knocked the shield to the ground and ripped the sword from Angus’ hand. He stabbed it into the rock wall burying the blade to the hilt. Angus lunged for the weapon, but in a blink, Dragomir grabbed him from behind.
Angus screamed in a defiant, helpless rage, kicking and twisting, fighting against Dragomir’s suffocating grip.
Dragomir's knife-like fingernails clawed down the side of his neck. "I do hope this royal blood you boast so much about doesn't taste fishy, like your mother's."
"She's not a fish you blood-sucking freak."
"Ohhh, such a tongue for a young king. I'm doing your kingdom a favor by killing you now, before they hear such unsavory language."
“Angus!" Vanora screamed.
Dragomir threw back his head and sunk his teeth deep into Angus’ neck. He felt the blood drain from his veins, his knees so weak he could hardly stand. Dragomir tossed him to the floor, laughing in his face as Angus’ life ebbed away. He wouldn’t die this way. Couldn’t die this way. He wouldn’t let the demon win. Angus crawled to a smashed coffin, ripped a board from the side. Dragmor reached for him and Angus wobbled to his feet, and drove it through Dragomir’s chest.
The vampire’s face contorted into a mask of rage and disbelief. He fell to his knees, clutching the wooden stake protruding from his torso. Angus cupped his hand to his neck to stop the pulsing throb and with the other, grabbed for the sword. Metal sang as Angus pulled the blade from the rock wall. He took one giant step, raised the broadsword high, and decapitated Dragomir with a wide slash. The snarling head rolled away into the dark and green vapors seeped from the exposed neck, trying to shape back into its vampire form.
He had to act fast before Dragomir escaped in the haze. Angus grabbed the shield near his feet and touched the tip of the broadsword to it. A blinding light arced between them. Lava flowed from the weaponry. The vicious liquid swirled around Dragomir’s frame, increasing in heat and sealing everything in its path. Even the vampire’s evil vapors could not escape the unforgiving magma.
Angus jumped onto the top of a broken coffin just as the molten rock reached his feet.
Vanora tossed him a long vine. “Grab on!”
Angus sheathed his sword, slid the shield onto his arm and snatched the vine. Lava swelled beneath his shoes. Angus worked his way up the vine. Magma expanded and rose higher, like a giant burnt marshmallow. If he didn’t hurry, the molten liquid would disintegrate his bones.
The bottoms of his feet burned from the heat. He scaled the vine as quick as he could, his muscles screaming in protest. Angus looked up. He was almost there!
Dragomir’s skeletal hand suddenly shot out of the lava. His boney fingers latched onto Angus’ ankle and jerked him downward. The vine snapped and Angus felt himself falling.
Vanora lunged forward and grabbed his forearm. The grip on his ankle loosened, then started to slip. Angus kicked with all his strength. Vanora snatched his wrist, leaned back and dragged him out. Angus scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. The blade glowed blood red.
Molten rock boiled to the top of the hole. Angus stabbed the blade into the center. When he pulled it out, the lava turned to stone, sealing in the ugly face of Dragomir, his yawning mouth forever gaped in fury.
Fane emerged through the forest with Oxton close behind. At the sight of Dragomir’s grave, Fane grabbed Angus and hugged him, then reached for Vanora. “You’ve done it! You have both saved us from a great evil and changed the fate of the worlds. I knew you could do it!”
“Thanks.” Angus said. He smiled at Vanora. “We make a good team.”
Vanora wrapped her arms around him and Angus’ chest swelled. “I’m just glad your okay!” She said. “I was so worried.” She touched the side of his neck. “Does it hurt?”
With Vanora’s arms still around him, Angus almost forgot he’d been bitten. He looked wide-eyed at Fane. “I got bit. Am I going to turn into a vampire?”
Fane shook his head. “You destroyed him Angus. He has no power over you now.”
“Thank goodness,” Vanora said, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m so glad this whole thing is over.”
“I think we all are.” Fane sighed. “Now it is time for us to say our goodbyes, and for you and Angus to journey home.”
“But...what about my mother?” Angus said. “Where is she?”
“I imagine she’s waiting for you, in the safe and sacred waters of Iona.”
A surge of excitement flashed through him. “Are you sure?”
Fane nodded.
Angus’ eyes watered. He was happy, yet sad at the same time. “What about you? Will I see you again?”
“Yes, of course. A king needs an advisor, doesn’t he?”
Angus smiled wide and nodded. “Of course I do.”
Oxton came forward. “Fairwell young friends. Safe travels.”
“Thank you.” Angus said.
Vanora turned away to wipe tears from her eyes. “Sorry, I hate goodbyes.”
Fane smiled. “You still have one last photograph. I suggest you use it now.”
Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out the rumpled picture of the familiar meadow. Then he grabbed Vanora’s hand. Right before they stepped onto the photo, Fane winked at him. “Take good care of that sword.”
“I will,” Angus promised. Then as one, he and Vanora stepped onto the picture and disappeared.
20
Angus and Vanora landed with a gentle thump in the meadow on Iona where Cudweed had kept the sheep.
“What was that wink all about?” Vanora asked.
“What wink?”
“Fane winked at you, right before we left.”
Angus shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He glanced downhill at his grandfather’s stone house, then out into the purple waves caressing the shoreline. Angus searched the choppy water, gazing over the swelling hills of the sea and back to the rocky shore. His chest tightened. The empty ocean stretched on for miles, with no sign of his mother. Then something flitted across the surface. Angus’ heart picked up a beat, but a closer look showed only a seagull.
Vanora put her hand on Angus’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, Angus.”
Angus blinked hard in an effort to prevent the scalding tears at the back of his eyes from falling. “Fane said he was sure she’d be waiting. I believed him, Vanora. I trusted him. But…” Hurt and despair filled him and his anguish threatened to overcome his control. He bit his lip until he tasted blood.
“Don’t you dare lose faith, Angus,” Vanora said, staring hard into his eyes. “I know she’ll come. Why don’t you try calling her?”
Angus turned toward the water and took a deep breath. “Mom. It’s Angus. Where are you? I’m waiting for you.”
Nothing.
/>
“It’s no good. My mother isn’t–”
“Angus.” Vanora grabbed his arm. “Look.”
In a stormy spot in the waves where undercurrents battled for dominance, a sleek head emerged. Not human, but seal. The creature rose from the churning waters, her brown eyes glistening. She drew herself onto the sandy shore and lay in a heap, not moving. Within moments, her flippers turned into lean arms and strong legs.
Angus held his breath, watching, waiting, hoping. Was it his mother? It had to be.
The creature stood. The sealskin slipped from the top of her head, down her shoulders and finally came to rest at her feet. She stepped out of it, stretched her slender body and carefully tucked the seal coat under her arm. A thin cornflower blue dress covered her toned body. Hair, black and thick as nautical rope, formed long ringlets to her delicate waist.
Angus stared at her. A warm glow filled his heart with recognition. With love.
“Go on,” Vanora said excitedly. “I’ll wait here.”
Angus started down the hillside. The closer he came to her, the clearer her features became. “Mom!”
Her eyes lit up and she ran toward him, her long legs gliding across the shoreline.
Angus ran faster. He tripped and fell onto his knees in the deep sand. His mother came to his side and helped him to his feet, pulling him tightly to her chest.
When she let him loose, he looked up into her face. Tears streaked down her porcelain cheeks. Tears of sorrow. Tears of joy.
They matched the tears Angus at last let flow.
He buried his face in her long, dark hair and hugged her close to him, inhaling her salty scent.
“Angus, my son. I’ve missed you so much. Are you all right?”
Angus nodded. “I will be. When I know this isn’t a dream.”
She smiled and touched his hand. “It isn’t a dream. It’s real. We’re together again…at last.”
“I didn’t think I would ever find you. I thought—they told me—you were dead.”
She nodded. “For five horrible years, I’ve wandered the cold and lonely ocean with a broken heart. Fearing everyday for your safety. Wanting desperately to be with you and unable to be.” She cradled Angus’ face in her soft hands. “When I received word that you had defeated Dragomir, I knew we would be safe together again.”
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 18
