by S. G. Rogers
With his back braced against the wall, Jon slid down until he was sitting on the carpet. Because his knuckle was scraped and swollen, he had to work the ring onto his finger. He stared into the dragon’s eyes afterward. “It’s only you and me, I guess. As long as I’m wearing you, I’ll always have a part of Dad here.”
His throat began to tighten again and his vision swam. Jon’s door was ajar, and as Sela walked by, she paused. She came into the room and plopped down next to her brother on the floor. They sat in silence for a while.
“Do you miss him as much as I do?” she asked.
Jon didn’t trust his voice not to crack, so he nodded.
“I believe what you told the policeman the day he disappeared,” she said. “You’re not nuts.”
“Thanks, Sela. I wish I could explain what happened.”
“You know what I think? Dad probably went to Yden.”
Jon shook his head, confused. “Eden?”
“Yeah, don’t you remember that bedtime story Dad used to tell? Yden, the alternate dimension with magic and stuff?”
A smile crept onto Jon’s face at the memory. “Of course I remember Yden. Ancient clans, warlords, magical creatures, good and evil wizards—”
“Ooh, don’t forget about the Wolf Clan wizard, Efysian!” Sela interjected with a delicious shiver. “He was the worst.”
“Yeah, that’s right—Efysian. Those were great stories.” Jon paused. “Dad always made it seem real, but it’s pretend, Sela.”
“I don’t think so. Look at his ring, Jon. It could be from the Dragon Clan.”
Jon glanced at the ring on his finger. “Sure. Maybe.” He chuckled. “It’s funny, but I haven’t thought about Yden in years.”
“You think it’s a stupid idea.” Sela pouted.
Jon shrugged. “Yden makes about as much sense as anything else.”
For some reason, thinking about Yden lifted his mood. He got to his feet and extended a hand to his sister. “Let’s go help Mom with dinner. Afterward, I’ll beat you on the Wii.”
“You couldn’t beat a monkey on the Wii,” she retorted.
“You’re the monkey.”
He lunged at Sela and she ran from the room, screaming with laughter. Jon paused, shaking his head. “Yden.” He chuckled. “That’s a good one.”
Chapter Four
Whispers and Nightmares
“Okay, let’s drive around outside the base so you can work on shifting gears,” Chaz said. “Take it easy and don’t do anything crazy.”
Jon adjusted his seat position and checked his mirrors. He noticed his uncle staring at the ring on his finger.
“You’re wearing that ring. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Chaz said.
“But Mom gave it to me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean for you to wear it. Men don’t wear jewelry like that.”
“It was Dad’s.”
“Do me a favor and take it off,” Chaz said in a clipped tone. “I’ll talk to your mother about it later.”
When Jon reached for the ring, it wouldn’t budge.
“What’s the holdup, Jon?”
“It’s not cooperating.”
“Is your finger swollen or something?”
“I don’t think so.” Jon worked at the ring, but nothing happened. “Be nice,” he muttered. The ring finally slid off and he stowed it in the pocket of his shirt. “Thanks.”
“What are you doing, talking to your ring?” Chaz scoffed.
“Whatever works.”
As Jon started the car, he gave his uncle a sidelong glance. “You’re wearing your class ring,” he pointed out. “It’s got a big red stone. I don’t see the difference between your ring and mine.”
“I’ll tell you one big difference, I don’t talk to my ring,” Chaz retorted. “Now back the Jeep up and head north. We’ll turn right at the first stoplight.”
****
After the driving lesson and a movie, Jon and Chaz went to Old Town for dinner. The restaurant was bustling with Saturday night activity.
“I think you’ll do fine on your driver’s test,” Chaz said. “Read over the booklet once or twice before Tuesday and you’ll pass.” He raised his margarita in a toast. “Cheers.”
“I’m glad you’re going to drive me to get my license, Chaz. I need the moral support. And thanks for the movie tonight.”
“No problem. Too bad Sela couldn’t come with us. She probably would’ve enjoyed it.”
“You know, that movie reminded me of a bedtime story Dad used to tell us kids when we were little,” Jon said. “It was about this magical planet called Yden.”
“I don’t think I ever read that one.”
“No, it’s not written down anywhere. Dad made it up. You see, there’s this ancient rivalry on Yden between the Dragon and Wolf Clan wizards. It’s like they’re always fighting for power. It’s a cool story, although Sela remembers more about it than I do.”
Chaz shifted in his seat. “Very imaginative. Too bad your father wasn’t a novelist. I bet the book would’ve been a best seller.”
Jon chuckled. “Sela’s got this funny idea Dad might be on Yden right now, and—”
“That’s ridiculous,” Chaz interrupted. “It’s not healthy for her to fantasize that way. I hope you set her straight.”
“Well, I—”
“Listen, Jon, have you given any more thought to pursuing a military career? You could go the Naval Academy route. Or maybe you’d like to aim for law school and become a JAG like me.”
Jon gaped at his uncle. “Um…I have two more years of high school left. I don’t have to decide tonight, do I?”
A large pepperoni pizza arrived, and Chaz and Jon stopped talking.
“Good,” Jon said through a mouthful of cheese.
“Spicy,” Chaz agreed, licking his fingers. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and he almost choked on a piece of pepperoni.
“Are you okay?” Jon asked, alarmed.
Chaz didn’t answer because he was busy staring at an exceptionally pretty woman walking toward their table. As Jon followed his look, he couldn’t help but stare, too. The woman was slender, with shiny black hair cut just long enough to tuck behind her dainty ears. She wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup and didn’t need any. Chaz scrambled to his feet, hastily wiping his fingers on his napkin. It took Jon a few moments to realize he should stand as well.
The woman shook Chaz’s hand. “How nice to see you, Lieutenant Parker,” she said.
“Uh…call me Charles. Chaz, actually.”
“Chaz,” she repeated. “I like that.”
Jon squirmed as her big gray eyes focused on him.
“Jon, this is Lieutenant Beck,” Chaz said.
“Lynn,” she said.
Jon shook her hand. “Jon,” he said, before he remembered Chaz had already introduced him. A stain of embarrassment spread across his face, but Lynn merely flashed him another beautiful smile.
“Jon’s my n-nephew,” Chaz stammered. “We’re, you know, out tonight.”
Jon stared at Chaz in amazement. He wasn’t usually tongue-tied.
“Yes, I’m out with friends as well,” Lynn replied.
Chaz laughed as if she’d told a cracking-good joke. “We were just talking about Jon going into the military,” he said.
“Ah. Well, I can tell you the military is a great career,” Lynn said to Jon. “You meet so many interesting people.” She winked at Chaz. “Have a nice evening.”
“You, too,” Chaz managed.
“Thanks,” Jon chimed in.
Lynn joined her friends and they made their way out of the restaurant. As they took their seats, Chaz gave Jon a good-natured whack on the arm.
“Ow.”
“You must be my good luck charm, Jon,” Chaz said ebulliently. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to talk to Lynn ever since she transferred in from D.C. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think she would have come over here to say hello.”
<
br /> “But you’re buff and everything,” Jon said, rubbing his arm. “I can’t believe you’d have a hard time talking to a girl.”
“Yeah, well, believe it. Having muscles doesn’t necessarily make you brave, especially around women.”
****
Mrs. Hansen was in the kitchen pouring a cup of decaf when Jon and Chaz came in. His uncle was still grinning about Lynn, broader than a five-year-old who’d been gifted a pony.
“I hope you two had a good time,” Mrs. Hansen said. “Anyone care for some coffee?”
“I’d love a cup,” Chaz replied.
Jon started to sit down at the kitchen table, but Chaz stopped him. “Good night, Jon. Why don’t you go to bed?”
“It’s only nine o’clock!”
“Then go to your room and read or something. I want to talk to your mom before I leave.”
Jon skulked out. To his astonishment, Chaz followed and watched him mount the stairs. He paused, midway up. “What, don’t you trust me?”
Chaz laughed in response, but he didn’t budge. When Jon crept back to the landing moments later, he was irked to see the kitchen door was closed. So much for eavesdropping, he thought. Returning to his room, he rolled up his sleeves and sat down at his drafting table. He wanted to sketch Lynn before her image faded. When he put the ring back on his finger, he winced at its slight sting.
“Okay, that was more of a nip than a bite, but could you give it a rest?”
Again, Jon thought he heard a whisper, as he had the first time he’d worn the ring. Longing to feel a connection with his father, he cocked his head and tried to listen. He knew he was imagining things, but he desperately wanted to believe the whispering sounded like a name.
“Ophelia,” he repeated. “Okay, now that we’re friends, maybe you can stop being so cranky.”
Jon bent to the task at hand, allowing the work to absorb him. When he finished, he took a step back to evaluate the results. He’d sketched Lynn Beck in a depiction so life-like she could have stepped off the page and into the room. Jon nodded, pleased.
“You’re my good luck charm, Ophelia. We make a good team.”
He picked up the sketch to show Chaz, but a glance at the clock told him his uncle had long since gone home. The hour was late, but Jon wasn’t tired yet. He retrieved his father’s old photo from its hiding place and used it to draw a portrait of him when he was sixteen. In Jon’s sketch, however, his father was smiling and happy. His stamina finally gave out sometime after midnight. As Jon drifted off to sleep, his father’s face was etched on his brain.
In the middle of the night, Jon had a nightmare.
He stood in a large, dimly lit cave. Long stalactites streamed down from the ceiling, and towering stalagmites thrust up from the floor of the chamber. The walls of rock surrounding him were embedded with iridescent crystals shining with reflected light. The place struck Jon as beautiful, but he felt apprehensive. With a sense of foreboding, he searched for the source of the shimmering light, hidden among the forest of rock and mineral formations.
As he wound his way past clusters of stalagmites, his foot dislodged a fist-sized raw diamond that skittered off into the shadows. Suddenly Jon spied a column of bluish light in an open space. He darted toward it but accidentally skidded on a pile of loose crystals. When he fell, jagged gemstones lacerated the soft skin of his palms. Blood welled up in the wounds, and as he struggled to his feet, red droplets flowed down his trembling, throbbing fingers and splashed to the stone floor. Emerging into the open space at last, Jon saw a man, rigid and immobile, imprisoned in the column of light. The man’s eyes were closed—as if in death. Jon’s heart thudded inside his chest and horror spread through his veins as he stared into the man’s face.
“Dad?”
Jon stretched his blood-soaked hands into the bluish light and his wounds began to close. He knew, somehow, his father had healed him. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ll find a way to rescue you.”
Suddenly a feral growling came from the shadows. Startled, Jon shrank back as a huge black wolf leaped from the darkness, its cruel fangs aiming for his throat…
Jon jerked awake, his arms moving involuntarily to ward off an attack that never came. He sat up and held his hands toward the early morning light to make sure the skin was whole.
“It was only a dream, Jon,” he told himself. “Get over it.”
He rested his face in his hands as he tried to clear his mind of the disquieting images lurking around the edges. Red light pierced the back of his lids, and when he glanced down, Ophelia’s eyes were glowing.
“I’m still dreaming,” he groaned and fell back onto his pillow, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.
****
Jon woke to the delicious smell of bacon…and a pounding headache. The images from his nightmare stayed with him, stirring up raw emotions he thought were in check. Feeling foolish, he examined Ophelia’s eyes. Fortunately, they were quiescent.
“What’s going on, Ophelia?” he murmured. “Am I mental?”
His mother was alone in the kitchen when Jon entered, bleary and wan.
“Morning,” he mumbled. “Sela’s not home from her sleepover?”
“No, not yet. You look pale, Jon. Are you okay?”
“Just a little headache,” he replied. “I had a rough night.”
After pouring himself a glass of juice, he helped himself to the scrambled eggs and bacon his mother had prepared. He tried not to notice her staring at his ring.
“Chaz brought up something last night,” she said. “That ring is a family heirloom. I’d hate to see it lost or damaged. I think we should keep it in the safe-deposit box at the bank.”
“A family heirloom?” Jon repeated. “Can you tell me anything about it?”
“Not much. Your father got it from his father when he was about your age. It’s been passed down for generations and it’s very, very old.”
“Did Dad ever tell you about his family?”
“Oh…well, I know your grandfather is an artist. A sculptor, actually.”
“He’s still alive?” Jon asked, surprised.
“It was a figure of speech. Look, I’ve had enough questions for one morning. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
She reached for the coffeepot.
Jon took a deep breath. “Did Dad ever tell you about Yden?”
Mrs. Hansen’s hand shook and she splashed coffee on the counter. “Chaz said you mentioned that last night. No wonder you had nightmares,” she said, making a big production of wiping the spill. “Your imagination is working overtime.”
“What I’d like to know is—”
“Give me the ring,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ll take it to the bank tomorrow.”
Jon blanched. “Please, Mom—”
“Now,” she said, in her I-mean-business voice.
Defeated, Jon reached for Ophelia, but the ring wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tried. Mrs. Hansen watched his efforts with increasing exasperation.
“Come on, Jon, stop fooling around,” she said.
“I’m not fooling around! It won’t come off.”
Finally, Jon held out his hand and let his mother try, but she had no success, either.
“Your hands don’t look swollen,” she said, puzzled. She twisted the ring back and forth, to no avail. “Well, don’t eat any salt today. Salt can lead to water retention. Maybe the swelling will decrease by Monday.”
“Okay.”
“In the meantime, I need you to straighten up your room. I’ve got an appraiser coming by this afternoon to give me an idea of what the house might be worth.”
“But I thought we weren’t going to have to sell for a while!”
“I want an appraisal anyway.”
Jon finished his breakfast and went upstairs to make his bed. As soon as he was alone, he reached for Ophelia. This time, she came off his finger easily. He laughed and slid her back into place. “Yo
u’re quite a troublemaker, aren’t you? I guess you don’t like getting pushed around any more than I do, huh?”
Were Ophelia’s eyes twinkling, or was it only a reflection from the light?
“Ophelia, I know there’s more to Yden than my mother is letting on, especially after my dream last night. But I need proof.”
His father’s old photograph was still clipped to his drafting table. When he picked it up, he noticed the date “June” written on the back. Suddenly he had the glimmer of an idea, but it would involve the retrieval of his father’s old wooden box and research best conducted when his mother was out of the house. That meant enlisting the help of the sneakiest person around—his sister, Sela.
