by D K Drake
Javan’s first instinct was to hop on the dragon’s back and ride him out of there just like he rode Storm back home. Except this dragon was about three times as tall as Storm; he’d be even taller when he stood. But since Mertzer was resting calmly with his front legs sprawled in front of him and his back legs tucked under him, it was hard to tell exactly how tall he was.
Diagnosing Mertzer’s problem, however, was easy: his long tail was stuck in a tangle of trees just inside the slanted acres.
“Hello there,” Javan said. He tried to keep his voice friendly and carefree, but his words to came out in an unnatural, high-pitched tone nevertheless. “Looks like you could use some help.”
I am in no need of help. I especially don’t need the help of a human. He huffed at Javan. If you even think about chopping my tail off to free me and in so doing enslave me to you, I will smother you with poison before you can even unsheathe your sword.
“No need to poison me.” Javan took a step back and held his hands up. “See, I don’t have a sword. Even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to chop off your tail. I’m not a Hunter.”
Mertzer cocked his head. No. You’re not. You wouldn’t be able to hear my thoughts if you were. That must make you a Collector.
“Right. I am. So I’ll make you a deal. If I get you out of that tangled mess you’re stuck in, you have to let me ride you.”
How about I make you deal? Mertzer raised himself into a sitting position, dwarfing Javan. He then clenched his right claw around Javan’s chest, picked him up and stared directly into Javan’s eyes. If you get me out of this tangled mess, I won’t kill you.
His gut told him that Mertzer really didn’t want to kill him, but considering the intensity radiating from the dragon’s eyes, Javan thought it best not to take any chances. “I think I like your deal better.”
Smart. Mertzer eased Javan back to the ground, glaring at him the whole way.
Javan tried to act as if he was picked up and glared at by dragons every day. He disguised his shaky hands by straightening his shirt, shot Mertzer a “that’s-what-I-wanted-you-to-do” look and strolled as casually as possible on his wobbly legs back into the slanted acres to inspect the dragon’s tangled tail.
Three squiggly trees had collided, and Mertzer’s tail was stuck in the middle of the ball of branches about five feet off the ground. Hundreds of the round leaves grew on the branches, masking the length of what seemed to be an endless tail.
“Wow.” The more leaves Javan pushed out of the way, the more white scales Javan could see. What he couldn’t see from where he stood was the tip of the tail. “This is crazy! How long is your tail?”
Long enough to get stuck while I was trying to escape a tree tremor.
Javan rolled his eyes and made a mental note: Mertzer was a humorless dragon who liked to state the obvious. He would state the obvious as well. “It looks like I’m going to need a chainsaw to cut you loose.”
I am not familiar with that term, human. What is a chainsaw?
“It’s a…nevermind.” Javan shook his head. It was not even worth trying to explain since he had no access to a chainsaw anyway. “I’ll just try to break off these branches by hand.”
Javan grabbed the closest offending branch trapping the top of Mertzer’s tail and began tugging. It bent but did not break. The second he let go, it snapped back into place. He tried breaking branches on the right side and bottom of the tail only to observe the same unbreakable results.
“Why…won’t…they…break?” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he pushed and pulled and kicked and shoved the branches. Nothing helped. The dragon’s tail remained immobile and immersed in the branches.
Keep that up, human, and you’ll start another tremor.
“My name is Javan.” Javan stepped back, wiped his brow and put his hands on his hips. “And that’s not a bad idea.”
You want to intentionally start a tremor? You and the old man almost didn’t survive the last one.
“We made it out just—wait. How do you know about the old man?” Javan turned to face Mertzer, but the dragon refused to make eye contact. Javan, however, could still see the guilt that flooded the dragon’s eyes. “You were watching us. You came in to the slanted acres, and you caused the tremor while we were sleeping.”
Mertzer turned away from Javan and stuck his nose up in the air. I was defending myself. I am the last of the free Dusk Stalkers and had to make sure you didn’t have any weapons with which to hunt or destroy me.
“We didn’t come to hurt you.” Javan pulled and pushed a few more branches. Then he realized that what hindered the dragon could help him. He could use the branches as a ladder to get to Mertzer’s back.
Mertzer wasn’t looking at him at the moment anyway, so Javan would be able to dart from the branches across Mertzer’s back and to his neck. Once there, he just had to hang on while Mertzer yanked himself free from the branches or caused another tremor. In the meantime, he had to keep the conversation casual. “We just came to observe you.”
That is not the only reason you came, Collector.
“You’re right.” Javan scrambled his way up the tangled branches. “I need your help.”
Why do you need my help?
“My mother is being held captive by the Dark King.” He stood even with the dragon’s tail staring at his sparkly white neck. “I need your help to rescue her.”
The Dark King is an evil man. Because of him, all Stalkers are on the verge of extinction.
“Exactly. He needs to be stopped. We can stop him.” Ever so slowly, Javan stepped from the branches and onto Mertzer’s rock-like scales. Mertzer didn’t seem to notice he had a human standing on him. “I need to collect all four Stalkers in order to overthrow him and win the throne.”
Yes, I am aware of your human laws. Javan felt Mertzer’s body grow rigid beneath his feet. My brother is the Dark King’s Dusk Stalker slave.
Javan paused before taking another step. “What?” For some reason, Javan took the news about Mertzer’s brother personally. “Then we’ll just have to rescue him, too.”
You would help me free my brother?
“Uh, yeah.” Javan inched along Mertzer’s back. Surely the dragon would have tossed him off by now if he didn’t want Javan to ride him. “That’s what this whole dragon collecting thing is about, right? It would make us partners.”
How many other Stalkers have you collected?
Javan reached the top of Mertzer’s back and crawled up to his neck. He placed one leg on either side and rested his hands on Mertzer’s neck. He was in place. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was precisely where he was supposed to be and doing what he was born to do.
He took a deep breath, smiled and said, “You make one.”
UNQUALIFIED! Mertzer roared, launched to his feet and reared up on his hind legs. The abrupt movement sent Javan sliding straight down the dragon’s back and onto the conglomeration of trees that had Mertzer’s tail trapped.
Mertzer twisted himself around and pressed his cold nose into Javan’s chest. I can tell you have a good heart, young one, but I will not submit myself to your leadership until you have first collected another Stalker.
With a flick of his snout, he tossed Javan off the trees.
Javan watched from the ground as Mertzer clawed at and bit the branches until he was finally able to jerk his tail free. He glanced back at Javan, nodded goodbye and zipped away into the darkness.
Chapter 26
The Prophecy
“E
xplain yourself!”
Javan lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around. Mertzer was gone, but Astor was standing in his place, arms crossed, looking angry.
“The dragon was stuck,” Javan said. “He needed help. So I came to help him.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Astor charged over to where Javan was laying. He kicked Javan’s legs and squinted at Javan through his thick glasses. “Explain to me how you were communicatin
g with him.”
“Umm…” Javan stood, trying to figure out why Astor was upset. If he didn’t calm him down quickly, the old man was likely to have a heart attack. “The same way I’m communicating with you: by talking.”
“Of that I am aware. I heard you. But you acted as if you could hear him speak to you.”
Javan nodded and spoke slowly as though that would help the seemingly senile man understand him better. “That’s cause I could.”
Astor adjusted his glasses and softened his voice as he peered up at Javan. “You could hear his thoughts?”
“Yeah.” Javan shrugged. “I don’t get why you’re surprised. I thought all Collectors could talk to dragons.”
“No. Only a few have ever had that ability. And none have ever been able to communicate with dragons before making them part of their collection.” Astor rubbed his hands back and forth and began pacing. “This is big. Oh, this is big. This is much bigger than we thought.”
Javan stepped in front of Astor, grabbed a hold of his shoulders and forced him to stop. “What are you talking about?”
Astor looked up at Javan and gasped. “Did Ravier know about this?”
“About me being able to talk to dragons? Sure.”
“He should have told me!” Astor slapped Javan’s hands away and began marching back toward the okties.
“I don’t get it,” Javan said, struggling to keep up with him. “Why is it such a big deal?” And where was this crazy fast pace when they were walking to the portal together yesterday? Guess the old man just needed something to panic about.
Astor spun around and pointed at Javan. “Because it means that you, my son, are the answer to the prophecy.”
“Oh. The prophecy. Right.” This conversation was getting stranger and stranger. “And what prophecy would that be?”
Flinging his hands up in the air, Astor screeched, “THE prophecy!”
“You mean THE prophecy?” Javan mimicked Astor with his hands. “Good. Now I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Ignoring Javan’s sarcasm, Astor continued his tirade. “This changes everything. We have to get back right away.” He turned around and pointed straight ahead. “To the okties!”
“I was kidding.” Javan tried to grab Astor’s arm, but the old man was surprisingly quick as he dashed ahead. “Hold up! I really have no clue what you’re talking about. What prophecy?”
The shouting did no good. Astor was too focused on getting home to explain this prophecy thing to Javan.
Which Javan found quite rude. If he was the answer to some prophecy, he had the right to know what it was. Maybe Ravier or Hamilton would enlighten him when he got back. If not, he would go on strike. Either his dragon-collecting trainers would tell him about this prophecy or he would refuse to train.
Certain that he would be able to get his demands met, he reached his okty just behind Astor, climbed on and followed the old man back through the Zandadorian portal.
◊◊◊
The first rays of sun were poking through the early morning darkness when Javan and Astor landed their worn-out okties between the okty barn and the house. Astor had been muttering incomprehensible nonsense to himself the whole way back, making it impossible for Javan to learn anything about this prophecy he was supposedly the answer to.
Javan was thus happy to see Hamilton, Ravier and Hannah walking toward them from the direction of the house. Surely one of them would explain the prophecy to him. Considering the loving, sympathetic gaze of his grandmother, his money was on her to help him out.
The cold, angry look his grandfather shot him, however, offered no sense of help, care or understanding. Neither did the gruff tone in Ravier’s voice as he spoke. “What took you so--”
“Silence!” Astor’s booming reprimand stopped Ravier cold in his tracks. Astor approached him and poked his finger into Ravier’s chest. “You knew and yet you did not tell!”
Javan grinned and watched the scene play out. He enjoyed seeing the normally stern and in control Ravier off balance and in the hot seat for a change.
“I…uh…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your son may have had the right color eyes,” Astor said, “but your grandson possesses the ability which supersedes eye color. We cannot properly train him if you keep such things a secret!”
“Ravier hasn’t been keeping secrets.” Hamilton looked and sounded confused. His confusion seemed to grow when he saw the obvious guilt drenching Ravier’s face.
“Yes, he has,” Astor said. “Tell him, Ravier. Tell him what your grandson is capable of.”
“Ravier?” Hamilton stood between Javan and Astor. The three of them stood in a semi-circle and stared at the fidgety Ravier. Hannah stood beside Ravier, but the blank look on her face made it clear Ravier had no ally in this situation.
Finally, Ravier shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “I thought it was a fluke!”
“Thought what was a fluke?” Hamilton asked.
“No,” Astor said, staying focused on Ravier’s excuse. “You just didn’t want to accept that your grandson—and not Dartez—is the answer to the prophecy.”
“The prophecy?” Hamilton’s voice squeaked. “You mean this kid from earth can fulfill THE prophecy? That’s impossible. His eyes are the wrong color.”
Ravier sighed. “No, they’re not.”
Hamilton and Astor turned to stare at Javan; they were particularly focused on studying his eyes.
“I know my colors.” Hamilton bent so that his nose touched Javan’s nose as he spoke. “This kid’s eyes are brown.”
“Ever heard of personal space?” Javan nudged Hamilton’s head away as he took a step back. The sudden fixation on his eyes had him on edge. He had hoped he would never have to expose his glowing green eyes to anyone ever again. His brown eyes made him feel safe and normal. His green eyes made him look and feel like a freak.
A freak couldn’t collect dragons and rule a country as its king.
“It’s an illusion,” Hannah said. She stepped beside Javan, put her arm around his shoulders and gave him an encouraging squeeze. “He’s wearing what he calls contacts to hide the true color of his eyes.”
“Show them, Javan.” Ravier had regained his composure and was back to issuing commands.
Javan looked to Hannah. She nodded in agreement with Ravier, so he relented. “Fine.” He bent his head, took his contacts out and placed them delicately in the palm of his hand. He blinked several times, then looked up. Astor smirked knowingly, but Hamilton was in awe.
“Whoa.” Hamilton turned his big bulky frame toward Javan and bowed.
“Stand up, please,” Javan said, stepping back to avoid bumping heads with the giant. “Would somebody tell me what my eyes and my ability to talk to dragons have to do with some prophecy?”
Hamilton’s jaw dropped. “Did you say you could talk to dragons?”
“Yeah. I can hear their thoughts.”
“Then you are the answer to the prophecy!”
“There you go with talk of the prophecy again,” Javan said. “Would somebody please explain to me what this prophecy is?”
“You mean he doesn’t know?” Hamilton asked.
“No, of course not,” Ravier said. “I didn’t think it was necessary. He’s barely committed to becoming a Collector; he might turn and run if he learns more is expected of him.”
“He needs to see the whole picture,” Astor said.
“He is standing right here,” Javan said, “and he agrees.”
“As do I,” Hannah said. “Come with me. I’ll let you read it for yourself.”
◊◊◊
Back in the house, Hannah tasked Ravier and Hamilton with making breakfast while she and Astor sat at the table on either side of Javan.
“Your grandfather should have told you about this the minute he learned you could communicate with dragons,” Hannah said. She had retrieved a book that looked to be a good thousand pages thi
ck from her room and placed it on the table in front of Javan. “Sometimes that man can be infuriatingly dense.”
Javan brushed the dust off the black leather cover and read the title: The Complete History of Zandador: Volume I. He felt like he had been transported back to high school and been given his history text book for the year. He cringed at the idea of having to read, discuss and take tests on the content within the book. He had never been much of a history buff and had no desire to become one now.
“Please tell me I don’t have to start reading from page one,” Javan said.
“You shouldn’t have to read anything at all.” Ravier stomped out of the kitchen area and over to other side of the table so that he was staring down Astor as he spoke. “We are wasting time. The boy needs to be training so he’s ready for the battles that come with dragon collecting, not reading the ranting of some ancient Xyien who left Zandador thousands of years ago when he didn’t agree with the political decisions of the Zandadorians.”
“Vichar was a wise and respected man with a unique gift from God that enabled him to see and foretell future events,” Astor said. “If we train Javan by ignoring the prophecy, we are sentencing him to failure.”
“I’m not a fan of failure and would prefer to avoid it by not ignoring the prophecy.” Javan resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Ravier. Instead, he opened the book and started rifling through the pages. “At what point in history does this Vichar dude appear and make his eerie predictions?”
“After the first king died,” Hannah said, motioning for Ravier to get back to the kitchen. Once he grudgingly acquiesced, she took control of the book and flipped pages as she continued. “After the first king died, the people disagreed how to determine who should lead them and how they should deal with the dragons.”
“Hey,” Javan said, “I remember Ravier telling me about that and how the different Bloodlines had different plans for the dragons.”
“Good,” Astor said. “Did he also tell you about the albinos?”
