The Dragon Dimension

by D K Drake

  As if serving himself wasn’t bad enough, the scarcity of food was worse. All he had to choose from was some sort of mystery meat, purple-tinted mashed potatoes, and a pot of vegetable soup. At least Esara said it was vegetable soup. It looked more like a bowl of broth with a few carrots floating around in it to justify calling it a vegetable soup. This feast the chief had bragged about wasn’t much of a feast at all.

  “Umm…” Micah refused to pick up his fork and eat when only half of his plate had food on it. “Where is the rest of the food?”

  “Micah, you’re being rude,” Javan whispered. “Be grateful for what you have and eat.”

  “No.” He pushed his plate away from him. “This is not a fitting meal for the king’s son.”

  “It is here in Keckrick,” Taliya said. “We are fortunate they are even feeding us considering how limited food is here because of the king.”

  “What do you mean? My father can’t possibly have anything to do with the food supply in Keckrick.”

  “Actually, he can,” Chief Gale said. “We’ve had to turn most of our farm lands into humminglo fields in order to meet your father’s outrageous demands. Then to make sure the flowers flourish, we have to tend to the fields and guard them against predators. That limits our ability to hunt.”

  “You can’t blame Omri for that. You have plenty of land here and should have used more of it to plant some crops. And if you’re hungry, leave the stupid flowers alone and hunt some animals.”

  “Clearly my friend has no idea what it’s like to live in Keckrick.” Taliya kicked Micah’s shin. “I do apologize for his rudeness and thank you very much for your hospitality.”

  “I cooked the last of the food in my kitchen to make this meal for you.” Esara stood, reached over the table and scraped the food from her plate onto Micah’s. “We are starting to see many of our people become sick and weak because they do not have enough to eat. If your father’s dragons don’t kill us, the lack of food might.”

  She took her empty plate over to the kitchen sink and exited the hut through the back door. Without a word, Gale, Taliya, and Javan copied her, leaving him alone in the hut with a heaping plateful of meat and potatoes.

  “Great. More for me.” Micah stuffed a forkful in his mouth, but for some strange reason, he had lost his appetite.

  ◊◊◊

  Two bites. Javan had a chance to eat two teeny bites before Micah’s obnoxiousness ruined dinner. As a result, he found himself too hungry to sleep.

  His accommodations were cozy enough. He liked the soft bed he sat on in the corner of the lantern-lit room, and he had had fun playing with the lantern. Its round metal base was filled with a cool substance called fire oil and had a thin, inch-wide opening enclosed by a foot tall glass case. Every time he clicked the spark button, metal prongs in the base rubbed together to create a flame that shot through the opening.

  Once the thrill of blowing the flame out and reigniting the fire dissipated, he left the lantern lit and listened to his surroundings. The sounds of trickling water and chirping rain forest creatures that wafted into the room from the open window above his head relaxed him.

  And thanks to soaking in the hot springs and the fresh set of clothes provided by Esara, he felt clean and comfy. The material of the long-sleeved green shirt and brown pants that looked like khakis was unlike anything Javan had touched before. Although it was tough, it was light-weight and kept him cool in the hot, humid weather.

  He didn’t like sleeping with a shirt on, though, so he had draped it over the end of the footboard by his stalker sword belt. That still didn’t help him sleep. His gurgling stomach and worried mind wouldn’t let him rest.

  What would Ravier think of Javan’s promise to help defend Keckrick? What would Varjiek think? Would the dragon be willing to fight against Omri’s dragons?

  Javan picked up the scale Varjiek had lost during the clash with Mertzer and Kisa. The half-inch thick triangular scale covered the palm of his hand. Javan wrapped his fingers around it and wondered what his dragon was doing at that very moment.

  Had he become friends with Kisa and Mertzer? Had he left them to come find Javan? Did he consider himself free from his obligation to his Collector and return home to Zandador?

  Contemplating the answer to that last question disturbed Javan. He sighed, leaned his head against the wall and was about to close his eyes when the way the light from the lantern beside the bed danced off the handles of his stalker swords caught his attention.

  He had never understood why the gap between the end of the handle and beginning of the blade on both swords existed. He thought the thin piece of steel as wide as his palm and half an inch high that connected the blade to the handle was a design flaw. Now that he was holding Varjiek’s scale, he had a different idea.

  “I wonder…” Javan scrambled to the end of the bed and drew the sword with the grey handle and black and gold blade. He studied the scale and the sword, then carefully slid the scale through the gap. As soon as the point of the triangle touched the steel, it clicked into place. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

  He swished the sword back and forth through the air. The scale remained in place, but Javan wasn’t sure what purpose it served. He took it out and swished the sword around again. “I don’t notice any kind of difference, but it looks cooler with the scale.” He clicked the scale back into place just as he heard a knock on the door.

  “Javan? You awake? It’s Taliya. Can I come in?”

  A girl? Wanted to come into his room? In the middle of the night? He should say no. “Sure,” he said. He gripped his sword tighter, hoping that would help his palm to stop sweating.

  “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you food.” The door creaked open, and Taliya walked in carrying a tray with a cup and plate on it. She paused two steps inside the room and looked around. “Javan? Where’d you go?”

  “I’m over here.” He waved with his sword-free right hand.

  “Over where?” She scanned the room but didn’t seem to see him sitting five feet away from her. “Are you playing games with me? Cause it’s not funny.”

  “You seriously can’t see me? I’m sitting on the bed.”

  “No you’re not. I’m standing by the bed. If you were sitting there, I’d be able to see you.”

  “I think you’re the one playing games with me.” Javan stood and tossed his sword on the bed.

  “Whoa!” Taliya jumped back, bumped into the open door and dropped the tray. Water from the cup splattered Javan, and the grapes that leapt off the plate began rolling everywhere. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Javan wiped the water off his face. “Stand up?”

  “No.” Her face drained of color and her voice shook. “How did you make yourself appear in the middle of the room?”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve been here all along.”

  “I know what I saw, and I didn’t see you when I walked into this room. I heard you, but I didn’t see you until just a second ago.”

  “That’s crazy. I’m not a magician. I can’t make myself appear and disappear. Unless…” Javan looked at his sword. Could it be? Did that scale somehow transfer Varjiek’s invisibility power to him? “I’m gonna try something. Tell me if you can still see me when I pick up my sword.”

  “Okay.”

  Javan rubbed his hands together and slowly reached for the sword. As soon as he wrapped his fingers around the handle, Taliya yelped.

  “I guess you can’t see me,” he said.

  “Nope.” She backed up and crossed her arms. “I don’t like it when people are invisible. Please make yourself visible again.”

  Javan laughed and dropped the sword back on the bed. “You look terrified.”

  “I not terrified. Baffled, maybe. But not terrified.” She straightened her shoulders and stuck her chin out. “I am not scared of anything.”

  “Then why did you drop the tray of food and scream?”

  “The whole invi
sibility thing surprised me. That’s all.” She bent down and began picking up grapes. “I’m guessing it surprised you, too.”

  “Yeah. Big time.” Javan joined her on the floor, eating the grapes as he picked them up. “Thanks for the food. These are good.”

  “You’re welcome. Esara felt bad about dinner and scrounged up what she could from some of the other villagers. She and I ate a lot more than this. When we filled up, she suggested I bring you the leftovers.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She winked and handed him the plate covered with grapes and a small assortment of other fruits Javan couldn’t quite identify. “So are you going to tell our pal Micah about your invisibility sword?”

  Javan shook his head while he finished chewing. “No! Definitely not. I’d like to keep this our little secret. Please don’t tell anyone, especially Micah.”

  “All right. I’ll keep your secret. But you have to promise to never spy on me in your invisibility mode. I don’t want to always have to wonder whether or not you’re lurking about.”

  “Deal.” Javan stretched out his hand, and she shook it. Before he let her hand go, he said, “I’m sorry I had to tell them about your humminglo flowers. I didn’t realize how important they were to you.”

  “They are important to me, but it’s a smart arrangement. If giving up my flowers means I get to return to Kisa, I guess I can live with that.” She pulled her hand away and stood. “Now I’m going to get some rest. You should do the same. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us. Once we reach the Dark Zone, sleep is going to be scarcer than the food is around here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As she closed the door behind her, Javan knew he should heed her warning and sleep in a nice cozy bed while he had a chance. But how was he supposed to sleep when he had just learned he could become invisible?

  He picked up his sword and began contemplating all the cool things he could do as an invisible man.

  Chapter 26

  The Iria

  Micah covered his eyes with his arm to protect them from the sudden burst of light. How could it be morning already? He felt like he had just gotten to sleep.

  He groaned, rolled over, and opened his eyes. Much to his surprise, his eyes had to adjust to the artificial light of the lantern on the table by his bed rather than the natural sunlight that wasn’t shining through the window on the wall across the room.

  Why was the lantern glowing? He had blown the light out. He was sure of it. He demanded total darkness when he slept and would never have left it on. Unless he was more tired than he realized and had zonked out with the light still on. That had to have been the case.

  He blew the fire out and settled under the covers in the pleasantly dark room. A minute later, though, the lantern sparked back on.

  This time he grabbed the dagger from under his pillow, sat straight up, and looked around. The door near the foot of his bed remained closed. The bench under the window with his clothes and backsword on it remained untouched. Everything seemed normal, but he had the eerie feeling that something was in the room with him. Whatever it was didn’t want him to sleep.

  Was some sort of spirit in the village angry with him for eating all that food at dinner? It shouldn’t be. He had been hungry. He deserved that food. He was Omri’s son. He could do whatever he wanted.

  “I’m going to blow the light out again,” he announced, trying to hide the fear he felt. He had no power over something he couldn’t see, and that made him uneasy. To settle his nerves, he did the only thing he knew how to do: he issued a command. “I demand that you leave it off and leave me alone.”

  Nothing responded. He leaned over, killed the flame with his breath, and waited. Satisfied the spirit was gone and the light was out for good, he laid down. Then he heard the sound of wood scraping the floor and his sword being unsheathed.

  “Who’s there?” He jumped up and sparked the lantern on. The light allowed him to watch the door open and close on its own. That didn’t disturb him nearly as much as seeing the bench tipped over and his clothes hanging on the wall with his sword stuck through them.

  Was that a warning? Was he next? Why did he complain about the food? He should have kept his mouth shut and just taken the food offered to him. “Sorry about the food. I won’t complain anymore. But you should haunt Omri, not me. He’s the reason you have a food shortage here.”

  The door once again opened by itself. Seconds later, a warm breeze wafted across the back of his neck. Too scared to scream or speak, Micah snatched the top blanket from the bed and ran out of the room.

  ◊◊◊

  “Javan!” Taliya banged on his door, waking him from a deep sleep. “Get up and get out here. You need to tell Micah his room is not haunted.”

  Javan chuckled to himself as he recalled Micah running out of the room in his underwear in the middle of the night with nothing but a blanket to wear. This invisibility thing sure had its perks.

  “Hello?” More banging. “You awake in there?”

  “Yeah,” Javan said. “I’m coming.” He quickly dressed himself by the light of the rising sun and opened the door. Like the other three rooms in the hut, his door opened directly into the living room. He and Micah had taken the two rooms on the right, and Taliya had taken one of the rooms on the left.

  “Finally.” Taliya pulled Javan over to Micah, who was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room covered from the waist down by his blanket. “Explain to Micah that ghosts do not exist and that he can go into his own room and get his own clothes and that if he tries to order me to get his stuff for him one more time, I will pull those pretty little dreadlocks out of his head one by painful one.” With a huff, she retreated to the kitchen.

  “I think you made her mad,” Javan said.

  “I’m the one who is angry. She wouldn’t do what I told her to do.”

  “She’s kinda vicious and could probably follow through with that dreadlock threat. I wouldn’t order her around.”

  “Then you can get my things for me.”

  “Not a good idea to order me around, either.”

  Javan turned to follow Taliya into the kitchen, but Micah stood and snagged his arm. “All right. I’m asking nicely. Please bring my clothes and sword. I saw and felt things in that room. Creepy things. I can’t go back in there.”

  Guilt ate at Javan’s conscience. Micah was spooked because of him. The fear in his eyes made Javan realize Micah was a real person with real feelings, not the cold-hearted, ruthless, evil robot Javan made him out to be.

  Javan sighed and started to come clean about his prank when Captain Cyr burst through the front door. “Good. You’re awake,” the captain said. “Gather your gear. We leave for the Iria in five minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Javan said, thankful for the distraction. Now he didn’t have time to tell Micah about the prank and could keep his invisibility ability a secret. “We’ll be ready.”

  After Cyr nodded and left, Javan retrieved Micah’s clothes for him. They were precisely where he had left them, attached to the wall with the same heavy sword that had sliced through Javan’s chest and chopped off Mertzer’s tail.

  Handling the sword again reminded him how much he hated Micah.

  ◊◊◊

  “Welcome to the Iria,” Captain Cyr said as he led them across the plank and onto the main deck in the middle of the boat. Micah made sure he was the first person on the boat behind the captain. He didn’t like that Cyr was in charge, but he could at least show Javan and Taliya he was ahead of them by positioning himself in the front of the line. And with only three feet between the railing and the red wall twice as tall as Micah, they had to stay in line while the captain walked them around the perimeter.

  “This boat is designed to carry cargo,” Cyr said, touching the red walls, “so she isn’t passenger-friendly. The cargo area inside these walls comprises the bulk of the boat. Right now it is stuffed with humminglo flowers.”

  The wall gave way to a glass enclosed room at t
he bow. “This is the wheelhouse and where I will be spending most of my time. When I’m not at the wheel, my second-in-command Andre will be piloting the boat.”

  Micah studied the room as they walked around it. A podium in the center held a wooden wheel that spanned the distance from Micah’s chest to his knees. Wooden spokes that looked long enough to wrap his hand around dotted the perimeter of the wheel, and some sort of device was built into the top of the podium. He wanted to go in to see what that device was, but Cyr moved quickly by the sliding glass door and down the other side of the hundred-foot long boat.

  The cargo walls stopped about twenty feet shy of the stern, leaving enough space for an additional ten-foot long room at the end of the boat.

  The captain led them into the covered walkway between the two rooms and pointed to the double doors leading into the cargo area. “We don’t want to risk any plants blowing away, so please do not open these doors and enter this area for any reason.

  “You are free to climb the ladder by the doors, though. It will take you to the deck above where you can find the best seats on the boat in good weather. You’ll also notice a hatch under the ladder.” He lifted the hatch and let them peek under the floor. “Down here is where you will sleep. You’ll also have access to a small kitchen and even smaller bathroom.

  “The other place for passengers is in the crank room.” He closed the hatch and indicated the room opposite the cargo space. “However, the rumble rocks make hearing anything in that room nearly impossible.”

  “Rumble rocks?” Javan asked. “What are rumble rocks?”

  “I thought you used rumble rocks on your boats in Zandador,” Captain Cyr said.

  “We do,” said Micah. Apparently the Dragon Collector had lived a rather secluded life, and Micah began to wonder what else the Collector was clueless about. “Everyone who is anyone knows what rumble rocks are.”