Snapdragon Book II: In the Land of the Dragon

by Brandon Berntson

  “That sounds about right,” Seth said, nodding.

  “I wonder if this is how it’s gonna be the entire way?” Eddie wondered. “Wolves one minute, dead people the next…giant monsters.”

  “Hey, guys, what about the legacy you were gonna leave?” Gavin asked.

  “Jeez, I forgot,” Eddie said, smiling.

  “What kind of legacy?” Seth asked. “An engraving or something?”

  “You know how long it would take to engrave a legacy on a rock?” Albert said. “We’d be here ’til next April.”

  “Yeah, but we have to make it permanent,” Eddie said.

  “If we put it on a tree, someone might cut it down,” Gavin said.

  “Good point,” Eddie said. “But I don’t see any lumberjacks around.”

  “Even better point,” Albert said, holding the knife he used to skin the deer. “Who wants the honors? Seth?”

  “Naw,” Seth said, shaking his head.

  Despite Kinsey being gone, Seth was relieved to have something to talk about, even if it was childish.

  “Let Eddie do it,” Gavin said. “Eddie hasn’t gotten to do much but drag his feet. Let him have something to remember on the quest.”

  “Good idea,” Albert said, surrendering the knife to Eddie.

  “I don’t want to do it,” Eddie said, looking away. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who carved the stupid tree. What the hell is that? That’s not gonna save our lives.”

  “You were all for it a minute ago,” Malcolm told him.

  Eddie sighed, relented, and took the knife. For a second, he just sat there, staring at the crackling flames.

  “Do it on a tree nearby, Eddie,” Gavin said. “That way you can still see it from the fire.”

  Eddie nodded, sighed, and stood up, walking over to one of the pine trees several yards away. The glow from the fire illuminated the area well enough; the lodgepole pines were dark pillars in the firelight. The air was brisk and cold.

  “It’s kind of dark, Eddie,” Seth said. “Can you see okay?”

  Eddie nodded. He pushed his glasses onto his nose. He stood by the lone tree for a minute or two contemplating what to carve. With his back to his friends, Eddie began to whittle at the tree with the tip of the knife.

  “‘The Coo-Coo’s. Just passing by on their impossible mission,’” Albert said, mockingly. “‘To save the beloved town of Ellishome.’”

  He laughed, but no one joined him.

  “For Kinsey,” Seth told him, steadily.

  Albert nodded. “Sorry, Seth.”

  “What are you writing?” Gavin asked Eddie.

  Eddie labored silently. He did not answer.

  “Don’t cut yourself,” Gavin said.

  None of them said anything until Eddie had finished. Roughly an hour went by.

  Taking a deep breath, Eddie stood back from the tree and gazed at his work. Seth saw the boy nod a single time. Eddie turned and came back to the fire. He handed the knife to Albert and sat down. “Done,” he said, and picked up a stick, poking it into the flames.

  “What did you write?” Albert asked.

  “Go look,” Eddie said. “It won’t bite.”

  Seth and the others looked at one another. They stood up and went to the bole of the tree. In the light of the fire, the words were easily distinguishable, the letters carved deep and tall enough to see. Eddie, although, unable to carve it permanently on a rock, made sure it lasted a long time.

  Carved on the tree was the date of the century and three fragments stacked on top one another:

  2004

  For Ellishome.

  And for Kinsey MacKay.

  The Children of Israel.

  Seth turned, walked over, and sat next to Eddie. He put an arm around the kid’s shoulders. Eddie looked at him, the fire reflecting in his glasses, making it hard to see his eyes.

  “It’s perfect,” Seth told him, his voice thick. His eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you, Eddie. It’s absolutely perfect.”

  Eddie smiled and patted Seth on the back. It was good to see because there didn’t seem much to smile about lately.

  The others came back to the fire and sat down again.

  “‘The Children of Israel?’” Albert asked.

  “Because ‘We are the offspring of God,’” Eddie quoted from Scripture. “‘We fight the Lord’s fight.’”

  “I bet it’ll be there a long time,” Malcolm said.

  They sat around the fire again and talked seldom throughout the night. Seth looked at the night sky.

  “Look,” he said, and motioned above.

  The clouds had pulled back for the first time in weeks, it seemed, revealing a deep indigo, a panorama of bright, luminous stars, strange configurations, which were odd to see in a world no different than the one back home.

  “Wow,” Albert said.

  “I’ve never seen that many stars in my life,” Gavin said, gazing upwards.

  Soon, they put out the fire, and retired to their tents, but Seth was too aware of Kinsey’s absence to sleep. He lay there and stared into the darkness for some time before finally nodding off.

  When morning came, he opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched, surprised by how well he’d slept. Malcolm was already up and outside with the others.

  Seth slipped on his boots, and stepped into the bright, sunshiny morning, wincing at the sun.

  The boys had re-stoked the fire, cooking more deer meat over the flames, and Seth joined them.

  “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Gavin said.

  Seth shook his head, but he was smiling.

  After they’d all eaten, they rolled up their sleeping bags and tents, and got their gear situated, readying themselves for another day of travel.

  Steeling themselves against the future, yet thankful for the sun, The Children of Israel traveled on.

  CHAPTER IX

  Autumn skipped quickly into winter. Around them, the landscape matched the harshness of the wind. They were deep into the mountains now, moving slowly over glaciers of hard, unyielding ice. Sparse wood forced them to go without fires (often very small ones). Because of the cold, the meat didn’t spoil, wrapped in the deer hide, and they took turns towing the makeshift sled behind them.

  The snow was thick and frozen, the air laden and sharp, biting into their skin. The clouds remained thick and heavy, and it snowed more frequently. The sunshine was brief, and they trekked laboriously through endless landscapes of ice and wind. At times, though, they were lucky to find meek shelters in hollows or small caves along the mountainsides, and here, they would build a fire and huddle closer together for warmth.

  Deeper and higher, the air became thinner, making it difficult to breathe. Seth and the others stopped frequently to catch their breaths, pacing themselves to keep from over-exertion. When they looked behind them, the same rocky terrain met their sight, surrounding them for as far as they could see. Canyons opened to jagged mountains peaks, incredible stretches of hard, snow-covered rock. Seth wondered when the mountains—if ever—would end. The boys grew impossibly weary and tired, wanting nothing more than the sight of the palace to loom into view over the next ridge. On and on, however—over each timberline, with every slow step—the palace remained just as elusive as when they’d begun their trek two months ago.

  They began to suffer terrible headaches and nausea with the altitude, and Seth noticed his friends with red-rimmed eyes, holding their hands to their heads, fighting back the same dull throbs of pain and shortness of breath. Eddie mentioned they had to get to lower elevations to fight off what he called, ‘acute mountain sickness,’ which could grow severe, resulting in loss of consciousness and respiratory problems if not treated right away. Living in the high altitude of Colorado, however, may have helped them fair better than most.

  As well as they could, they kept to the lowlands, and despite the light-headedness and nausea, they persevered. Seth wondered if Ben were still guiding them, making the situation less dangerous th
an it would otherwise be.

  Mountain peaks covered in snow etched the horizon. Snow patched the rough and rocky ground, and soon, they descended from the timberline and into forests again.

  They were wearing goggles now, which Malcolm had also provided. The boy had been wise and careful in his preparation, and if it hadn’t been for his rich grandfather, they would have been much worse off.

  The wind turned cruel, gusting to over fifty miles an hour at times, making it almost impossible to keep going, and often they were forced to stop and find shelter away from the wind. They sacrificed shirts from their packs, tearing them into long strips, and wrapped them around their faces. Frozen snow and ice felt like pebbles and tiny rocks pummeling them with the wind.

  When they were able to get a fire going, they melted snow and boiled water to make it drinkable. Albert whittled for hours, making a hollowed log for a pot to boil water in since—with Kinsey’s disappearance—many of the supplies were gone. Albert continued to amaze them, however, with his knowledge of survival and ingenuity.

  Often, they packed their canteens with snow, setting them close to the flames to thaw. Albert said it was more important to stay hydrated in these conditions than to eat, and they relied on his every word.

  Since Kinsey’s disappearance, the Dragon had vanished as well. Unfortunately, for reasons Seth didn’t understand, Ben, too, was silent. He’d thought the tiger would accompany them on their quest, and he missed the gentle beast.

  On one particular day, however, they found a spot of softer ground, littered with dry branches and dead trees. They made camp near the base of a mountain slope, then stoked another fire to life.

  Carving spears to fix the deer meat to, they cooked a hot meal over slowly growing flames. A relief to eat a hot meal again, Seth felt his energy restored, his mind less troubled. Their headaches and nausea had passed, and they huddled close together, relying on each other and the flames for warmth.

  “This is the most pleasant I’ve been in about a week,” Malcolm said, shivering.

  Seth thought he was sitting around snowmen with their knit hats, gloves, coats, goggles, and strips of cloth around their faces.

  “If we don’t find the palace soon, I think we’re all gonna know what Frosty the Snowman feels like on a regular basis,” Eddie said. “I’m not feeling so hot, either. No pun intended.”

  “It’s looking worse every day,” Seth said, nodding.

  Gavin and Albert nodded as well. Malcolm stared into the flames, his hands outstretched without gloves, trying to warm them.

  Seth thought about Kinsey, and said a silent prayer for her and his companions. Even if they found the palace, he wondered if they had enough strength and food to make it back alive.

  Since leaving Ellishome, he hadn’t dreamed about the palace at all. Again, he began to wonder if it was even real…a ruse from the Dragon since the beginning. Maybe the beast had finally outwitted and defeated Ben, and now they were lost within the mountains to fend for themselves. Why else did he feel so alone lately, as though some vapid space emerged where Ben should be?

  Seth tried not to think about it and ate as much of the deer meat as he could.

  ii

  Eddie’s Journal:

  (Somwher in Novmber?):

  Tired and worn out. Still alive. Thank God. We’re trying. We miss Kinsey, but we’re coming for you. That’s a promis.

  Jurnal, I’ve always wonderd if what they call faith is not just sumthing we hope for. Are faith and hope the same? I suppose they are in sum way. But I wunder…

  We diserv to save Ellishome and all who liv there. Look at what we’ve been thru alredy?

  Is that fair? Is it right or over-confadent to think that way?

  When you find out the difernce between hope and faith Jurnal, tell me. I’ll be looking for your ansser.

  Sumtimes, I’m glad I brought the jurnal. Sometimes I hate it. It’s not like its very pritee here. Everything’s colder and bleeker, grayer than ever.

  I don’t feel so good, eether. I can’t think strayt suddnly. I keep getting thes hedakes. And I feel sick all the time, but I don’t want to menchin it to the others.

  The days have been crazy. We ran into wolves a ways back, but had no truble with Seth and the Imakulat Sword. Whatever that means. Why do I worry when we have Seth and Albert? Albert, of corse, took out sevrul with the gun. They got the pitchur in a hurry. The wolves, that is.

  Our meet is still okay. It keeps during the day, and we havnt had the problms we thot we wood. There’s a lot. One deer provides ampel supply for 5 boys. Thank God.

  What can I say? So far, I think, wev been lucky. Sumethings pushng us, for good or evil, tho who nose. Maybe God, maybe Ben.

  If I could draw a picture of a guy holding his palms up in defeet, I wood. He wood be shrugng. I think thats how alll of us feel. tired. tired of mving and being harrasd by the Dragun.

  And thers no sign of the palase…

  I’m not sur ther is a palis. Wouldn’t we have found it already? We could be going in sirkels, always moving, never gayning ground. I don’t think we’ll ever find it. gone for ever, something Im starting to beleeve. Not heded in the rite derection. We have been minipulatd, cheeted. The Land of Dragun.

  Ive tried to prepar mysel for this, that something worse is hapen-ing, the end will come, and the palise will be over the next rige. Will we get sicker and pine away? Will somethng more terible happen?

  The reason I say this is. We were not just lost, suronded by wolves, but a place of ded children.

  Next thing we neew, Kinzy was gone. We terned arond, and she wasn’t there. But we made a vowe. Wont leeve without her. Thats the pakt we made. Shes out there. Shes out there, and shes still alive.

  It has taken a tole on Seth. You can see it, like he’s responsabel. I don’t know wot to think. She could easly be ded. We hope she isn’t uv-corse. Maybe thats fayth.

  We’re not the same, iyther. Something is defanatley hapening to us. None of us ’r the same. Albert is geting thiner, 2. But its not that. somethng else, sumthing about being here. This place, what’s been haponing, wot it’s doing. No, we are not childrun. I can’t speek for the others, but thats how I feel.

  What kan I say? We ’r, I prey, God’s Children, batleng this cornur of evel, and I Hope and Pray, we will go home viktoryus. I miss mom and dad. Maybee not dad soo much. But I miss mom.

  I havn’t kept many entrys, only when its importunt, or wen I can get to it with enuf enirjy to write. So far, nuthing else. Makes me laff, thinking of Seth with the sord in his hand. A little boy (David) trying to sley Galieth.

  Is there really such thing as the devil, and if so, can he disgyse himself in the form of a man, or is it just deth, the reeper, the boogyman?

  I gess, he cood be anything he wants. Hard to say.

  I never beleeved in the devil, but I supose it kood be. There wood have to be a God then, woodn’t there? At least to me. I’m not shore I wood want to talk to you uther wise, jurnal.

  I’ve leerned about scripchur alot over the past fue yeers. Mom insists on going to cherch. Dad wont go, but her kids try. I don’t think by going I evr reely beleevd in God, but I try too, espeshaly now. I hope He fergives me for that.

  I’m with a valyannt and nobel groop. Albert is our nite and pretektor. Seth, our majic talasman, along with his sored. Kinsey, the capchurd prinses, and Malculm, sort of jenral, leeding the way, makes all of our disisyons. Lets say, we have not fonde reeson to disagree. Gavin, of corse, has his scores to settel. Whatever hapens here, I hope it is byootafel. I hope it helps him be trulee free from his muther, whatever she is. Maybe she and the Dragin are working twogether. Pirhaps Jurnal, u could send this misteeryus figure to her.

  Just a thot.

  me?

  Onist, I don’t no why Im here, just the stoopid skrybe, for the heck of it, just luckey.

  Is that hope? Or is that faythe?

  Maybe nyether.

  I hope we will be okay, and I will have f
aythe in that. For now, my pen is tyred, or my hand is, and I cant right anymore. My head herts, I don’t feel so good.

  Until agin, travlers…

  Ed.

  iii

  The smell of flowers was in the air, something Seth hadn’t experienced since early spring and summer. Because of the bleak and frozen landscape, he wondered if his senses weren’t playing tricks on him.

  Seth turned to his companions to see if they noticed as well. They were not wearing their goggles today.

  “Do you smell that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Malcolm said, nodding. His eyes behind the tortoise-shell glasses were the only things Seth could see besides the fabric wrapped around his face.

  “Like flowers,” Gavin said. He took a big whiff. “This is good. This is nice.” The boy methodically took large breaths of air, his chest swelling. He put his arms out on either side of him. “Feel that?” Gavin breathed in the smell again, and closed his eyes. “That’s the cleanest air there is.”

  “Makes me feel light-headed,” Eddie said.

  “That’s the beauty of clean air,” Malcolm said.

  They all looked at him. Even Gavin stopped, dropping his arms.

  In the cold, harsh winter wind, Malcolm said, “What?”

  “‘What?’ is right,” Albert said. “We were talking about flowers, not just air.”

  “I didn’t realize what I said,” Malcolm told them. “What’s the difference?”

  “Who cares what he means?” Eddie said. “Maybe he likes the clean air better than flowers. Maybe Gavin was talking about clean air.”

  They looked at Eddie and started laughing. Eddie smiled, though it was hard to see under the fabric.

  “This is the best part of the journey, though, right?” Eddie said. “There’s more to this than meets the eye. One day we’re all gonna sit back and talk about it. ‘God’s Children, sent to battle Forces of Evil, and find ourselves stronger and closer to our Maker. We Will Bring Children to Him.’”

  Now, the others looked at Eddie as if he were a little odd. The quest had changed them in more ways than they’d realized.