by A. W. Cross
“My dear, when a magical creature doesn’t want to be found. It’s not found,” his bearded chin lifted with curvature of his smile, and she ignored his attempt to bring humor to the situation. “You will not be won over, then?” he asked.
“I cannot. You have taken my life from me, and worse, allowed others to take it. Now, all I want is to go home and not be bothered.”
“My dear, you are home,” he used his left hand to indicate the area around him, and she frowned.
“No, Valhalla has not been my home for a long time. With its gold pathways, and rich structures. I have never felt at ease here. When you cast me out, the first time, it was a relief. Even as I closed my eyes and knew that I would have no memory of this place. As a human, I found my place. I wish to return to Earth,” her voice did not waver, nor did she break eye contact. Her ocean blue eyes, watching the god of the realms stroking his chin, even as he held his scepter in his right hand.
“I can’t say I am not disturbed that you would want to go back to Earth, and not remain here with me.”
“Here is not real to me,” she said. “Fletcher, mortals… the grass, the trees… that is real to me.”
Odin shook his great head in dismay, and closed his eyes, “You and that dragon man. You have always had a fascination with the scaly creatures, and I could never understand. Though, I suppose if this is what you truly want, then I will not keep you from it. One day though, your mortal body will die, and you will have to return here, daughter. It is the only place your spirit self can dwell.”
“Fine, just let me live my life uninterrupted. Don’t kill me off, and don’t let me die for your personal gain. If I die a human, then I will return here, happily. However, if you interfere, I’ll send myself to Hades.”
“Agreed,” he said, and in the next instant there was a flash of light, and she was back on Earth, standing next to a very confused and bewildered Gustavo. The carousel lay on the ground, and she picked it up to study her reflection.
“Human again!” she laughed, grabbing Gustavo’s hands and spinning him around in a happy dance.
“What in the world is going on!?”
Lillian rushed forward to hug him, “Oh Gustavo, you poor sweet human. My best friend.”
“What in the worlds, did I just see?”
Lillian didn’t know what to say, “I, really don’t know.”
Gustavo’s face paled, and he stumbled back, sitting on the ground. “What am I to tell the villagers? How do I even begin?”
“Griselda!” Lillian laughed, yelling loudly.
The woman was there in a flash, smiling wide at Lillian.
“Yes, madam Lilly?”
“Wait, you knew?” the girl asked perplexed.
“Of course, I am a fairy. We can see what is not seen. Just like I can see your friend here is quite rattled, and needs some tea?”
Lillian nodded with a wink, “I think that would help. Do you think you could help his memory?” An obvious tone to her words.
Griselda nodded, and they exchanged quiet glances. Lillian was comforted in knowing that Gustavo would walk away, his memory erased, renewed by fairy tea, and an unencumbered new mayor of his provincial little town. As for the dragon everyone had seen, but he clearly hadn’t, she knew he would find a way to ease their fears, as he would have no recollection of this place.
He would not remember Bella, the girl he loved, nor that she was a Valkyrie, and hopefully he would go on to wed and have other little Gustavo’s of his own. With that taken care of, Lillian hurried back to Fletcher, stroking his side. The soft scales like silk under her fingertips.
“Oh, Fletcher, please be okay,” she whispered.
“Tis but a flesh wound my lady,” he responded turning slightly. “A little fairy magic, and some rest, and I’ll be right as rain.”
She smiled, moving her hands to his strong jaw. “I sure hope so.”
His large yellow eyes blinked several times.
“You got your memory back?” he asked, curiosity heavy in his raspy voice.
“I did,” she grinned. “I’m so sorry my father allowed this. Lucien should never have been allowed to walk the Earth.”
“So, it’s you? It’s Lillian?”
She nodded in response to his question, cheeks flushed. He gingerly sat up on his hind end, watching her inquisitively, and she couldn’t contain herself. She thrust her arms around his wide dragon body and leaned her head on his chest. Painfully aware that he had sacrificed himself for her.
“You could have died,” she said, head laying against his warm scales.
“I would gladly have done that for you,” he said softly, exhaling a whiff of smoke. “I love you Lillian, I never stopped loving you, even as I believed you to be dead.”
She thought back on her memories of her previous life and even when she had been Bella. His kindness and gentle nature had always been prevalent, and even as she had known him to be a man. She had known no man to conduct himself in such a way.
“Is that why you were so angry?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he answered, though I had many reasons to be angry. I was angry because Odin took everyone else’s memory but didn’t take mine. I was angry because I was alone. Angry because I missed you, angry because I didn’t tell you how I felt.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she whispered against his skin. “I didn’t tell you how I felt either. Maybe if I had, all of this could have been avoided.” She sucked in a deep breath, and even as she knew he was human under the awkward reptilian like body, if she said the words, and he stayed a dragon, her human heart would be broken. “I love you, Fletcher. As a dragon, as my friend, and as the only one who ever truly had my heart. It’s no wonder I could never fall for Gustavo, it’s like, even as Bella, with my memory suppressed, I always knew. I knew there was more. I knew there was someone.”
He rested his scaly head atop her golden waves, and they closed their eyes.
“Well, no matter what happens, at least we’re together now. In whatever capacity.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, hand still resting on his warm scales.
Then the ground underneath them started to quake.
19
“Fletcher!” Lillian yelled out, the earth quake tossing her to her hind end.
“Lillian!” He cried out. Thunderclouds rolled in overhead, and the sun was blotted from the sky. From inside the castle, the servant sprites and fairies, came out, their magical bodies no longer hidden, they fluttered about and darted here and there, fear evident on their delicate features. Even Griselda fluttered about with Charlie, holding him tightly to her petite olive-toned form. Her floral crown, still vibrant in the dim light of the overcast skies.
“What’s happening?” She screamed, as the ground parted underneath them, and Lillian was forced to leap to the side to avoid falling in the chasm that formed below.
Fletcher’s body was lifted into the air by an unseen force, and he fought against the pressure that gripped him on all sides. “Lillian, something has a hold of me!”
“Hang in there, Fletcher! Fight against it!”
“I’m trying!” His nostrils flared, and fire burst from his mouth, but it dissipated immediately.
Lightning struck across the sky, and Lillian scrambled backward away from the heavy barrage of rain that began, pelting down on them from every direction. Soaked to the skin, and shaking in fear, Lillian feared for his life, but she was powerless to do anything from the ground. In a flash, flames burst up in a circular motion around him, and he was dropped to the Earth. Right at the heart of the fire circle.
Lillian stood up, and ran towards him, and with all of her might, propelled herself over the gaping chasm to the other side to reach him. As she approached, she could see smoke from the fire caressing over him like a hand of fire, and she screamed and ran toward the fire circle. As she got closer, the flames shot higher, making it impossible for her to hop them to get inside. Fletcher’s dragon form was no
w lifeless, and barely visible through the blanket of smoke.
His body lifted up from the ground, and the smoke swirled around him, faster and faster, until she was sure it would devour him completely.
Then, like a hand of the gods had reached down, the smoke disappeared. The flames died out, the ground shook itself back together, and everything was as it should be. Fletcher, lay motionless in his blue and gold suit, his chest rising and falling gently as if he were in a peaceful sleep.
“Fletcher! Fletcher!” she cried out, tumbling towards him, and picking up his head. “It’s you! It’s human you! You’re alive! You’re… you’re magnificent!” she smiled, kissing his head, the feel of skin unfamiliar to her lips, and the warmth of his body unlike the cool feel of his scales.
“What in the hades was that all about?” Fletcher said, opening his eyes, lips upturned in the broadest smile.
“That my dears,” Griselda said, as she came closer, “Is centuries of lies, hidden truths, and curses coming to an end. It is the end of an era!” she said jubilantly dancing about.
Fletcher stood to his feet, then extended his hand to Lilliana, “Well, it’s about time. I’ve been waiting forever for this.”
“For what?” she asked, eyes like sapphires as she smiled up at him.
“This,” his head leaned in slightly, and his soft lips pressed to hers. His arms, every bit as human as she could possibly hope for, wrapped around her waist and pulled her in for a tight embrace. Heart fluttering wildly, she pressed back, yielding to the joy that encompassed her in the moment.
After death, demons, and lifetimes apart; mortal life with Fletcher was going to be magical indeed. All of the magical creatures that existed came out to experience the moment, just as the rain stopped, and the sun peeked through the disappearing clouds.
The End
Forget Enchanted Castles by R. Castro
Credits & Copyright
Forget Magic Carpets. Copyright © 2019 by R. Castro. All Rights Reserved
Proofread by The Enchanted Quill Press
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, recorded, or stored in any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the brief quotation for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
First edition, 2019
Created with Vellum
1
A cool breeze blanketed me, sending a chill down my spine as I held a book tightly to my chest. I’d stumbled upon the old grimoire when I’d joined my father at one of his inventors’ conventions. He’d been otherwise engaged with likeminded individuals, that he hadn’t noticed my absence for better part of that afternoon.
A tiny bookstore along a cobblestone street beckoned to me. I’d read all the books from the single shelf in our towns so called library and I was desperate for new material.
The shopkeeper was so delighted that anyone, at all, had walked through his doors, that he rambled excitedly, on and on, about the many books he carefully guarded in his keep.
“What’s this?”
A deeply tattered soft leather book leaned sadly against a larger much newer book.
He let out a deep sigh and reached for a curled corner of his mustache, squeezing and tugging on it as he chose his words.
“I honestly cannot even remember where that came from.”
His greyish blue eyes squinted behind his spectacles.
“May I?” I asked politely before reaching for the item.
He tilted his deep dark head of hair in my direction. An indication that I had his approval.
“Oh! I think it’s poetry.” I said turning the pages. “How much?”
His belly rolled as he let out a jolly laugh. “Please, have it. You’ve already got a stack going. The least I can do is give you that old one for free.”
I was excited about all the books held together by the twine. We both agreed I’d hold the old tattered book, believing it didn’t need any more torture than it seemed to already have received.
My feet move quicker as the air picked up, almost out of nowhere.
Back inside the universities main hall, I moved my way through the crowds; inventors, investors, and spectators all gathered, in the off chance that one of these brilliant minds had come up with something so useful, yet so unique, that it would change the way we lived.
My father had been working in secret on his piece, not even showing me. I was eager to get back to his booth and see what exactly he’d come up with to warrant dragging me in toe with him, across the ocean, onto foreign lands.
“It’s a clock.” My voice was absent of the enthusiasm needed to show my support. Yet, how could I express such when all I saw before me was a cold casted bronze clock. It was unique and beautiful, with its cogs and sprockets with copper and brass accents. A hint of Victorian curlicue embellishments. Roman numerals and mechanical gears. “But what does it do, other than tell time?”
His face lit up like a kid in a candy store. “When you shift the handle on the side, and hold the small contraption it releases, it allows you to see the past in a fast-moving time-lapse image. You can’t hear anything, but you can see anything that happened in the clocks surrounding over the previous twenty-four hours.”
My father had officially lost it. He’d just suggested, quite loudly, that he’d figured out, in a way, how to travel back in time.
I immediately looked around, trying to gauge the looks on the faces of the people watching his booth. To my surprise, they all waited, completely mesmerized by the possibility. Still, I cringed, knowing they were about to be utterly disappointed.
At least I thought so.
“Ladies and Gents, I’m setting up the machine. So, step right up, for a chance to witness history being made. I call it the Horologium.”
The eyes of the onlookers grew wider as every person at the booth held their breath.
I pulled my goggles over my eyes. I’d instinctively carried these with me as a precaution. They were functional for my reading, with my adapted double eye loupe. Yet the leather padding around the rim of the lenses protected my eyes, from things like this. Inventions. After all, I was my father’s daughter, and I was known to tinker now and again in the shop, repairing old books, or repurposing discarded furniture.
I secured the goggles in place and watched.
My father had asked for a volunteer, and someone from the crowd pulled forward. He was an interesting chap. Military perhaps? His dark greenish brown uniform and bright decorative pins said as much. But it was his weapon, firmly secured in its holster at the hip that sealed the deal.
My father went straight to work, detailing to the man what exactly he needed to do. He took a deep breath and stepped back.
Without hesitation, the man acted.
Nothing happened immediately. And the onlookers looked back and forth from the volunteer and my father. My father, however, didn’t blink. His eyes were intent on the clock.
The gears stopped. Then suddenly a clicking began, sending the gears in reverse motion, shifting the metal contraption alive as a light humming sound reverberated like a wind chime on a breezy day.
Click. Tic. Toc.
We all stood frozen watching as the man’s face lit up in aww and disbelief.
The chime echoed louder, piercing into my skull, as I threw my hands over my ears. Sending everything in my view a blur. The others followed with the same reaction. Yet the man remained unmoved, a quizzical expression spread over his face.
Others in the hall moved closer to the exhibition, attracted by
the eerie noise.
Whispering traveled in the outer part of the crowd, sharing with the new arrivers what we were supposed to witness. Gasps followed by murmurings of “impossible,” rang about. And my father remained unmoved, waiting patiently, hands cupped at his belly.
And just as quickly as it had all started, it stopped.
The gears froze and the man returned the lever into position, the handle he’d been holding retracted back into the clock.
You could hear a pin drop as the crowd held its breath.
His hands tugged on the edges of his fit military jacket before he turned to the crowd.
We all waited.
When he finally faced us, his face glared, unblinking.
“Did it work?” Someone hollered from the crowd.
The man’s head barely tilted in the affirmative and my father broke into cheer.
“Yes!” he hollered with amusement. “What exactly did you see?”
“The last few moments as you explained how to use the clock, to me. Also, when you spoke to the crowd, and finally, when this young lady watched as you carefully described what would happen…” He said trailing off as he met my gaze.
His dark eyes grew curious. “And who exactly is the young lady?”
“That is my daughter, Lilian. Lily for short.”
“Miss Lily.” He said slightly bowing to me as a sign of respect. “I am Lieutenant General Jensen. Brody Jensen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And sir, what is your name?” He inquired after my father.
Drew, my father, immediately extended his hand to the general in a gesture of friendly greeting. "Drew Anderson, sir. Very nice to meet you. And thank you, for being a willing participant of my experiment."
The general took his hand and shook it back. "You are quite talented. Say, are you two free for dinner? I'd love to discuss this invention of yours more in depth. And dare I say? I haven't seen either of you around these parts before."
