Dragon Sleeping (The Dragon Circle Trilogy Book 1)

by CRAIG SHAW GARDNER

  “Can you use a bow and arrow?” the prince asked.

  “Actually, I can,” she said, delighted that she could be of help. “Three years on the high school archery team.”

  “That certainly sounds impressive,” the prince agreed.

  She shook her head. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “There are more things I don’t know than I do,” he said with a smile and a shrug. “It is nothing new.”

  There he was, acting helpless again—her lost prince of the forest. She stepped forward and reached out to take his hand. Her fingers passed through his ruffled sleeve. He really was an apparition.

  He was frowning again, but not at her attempt to touch him. His attention was focused somewhere else when he said, “You are one of the three. And one of the seven.”

  “Now I’m the one who doesn’t understand,” she answered. “Neither do I,” the prince said as he smiled at her again. “But the People do. Or they will. And they’ll explain it to both of us in time. But there are things we must do. You’ve been in Nunn’s castle. You’ll realize that you don’t want your parents to go there, too.”

  Mary Lou almost shivered when she thought again about the Captain’s screams, and the ape-creature who seemed to be made out of light. Yes, as little as she really knew about it, Nunn’s castle was a place that she understood far too well.

  Thirteen

  Charlie whimpered where he lay on the ground, still in a deep sleep. “Your dog will heal,” Obar pronounced as he rose from his work with the patient. “How do I put this?” The magician looked up to the ceiling. “The recovery will take a different course than what you are used to. There are certain things about this place that are unlike—well; I suppose you realize that, don’t you? However, I should be handy to make any—shall we call them adjustments? —that you may deem necessary.”

  Adjustments? What was Obar talking about? Nick wasn’t even sure what the wizard had done already, save for some business where he moved his hands up and down along the length of the dog’s body while he chanted something in a voice so deep that it was almost a growl.

  “Excuse me,” Obar remarked as he lifted his palms toward the ceiling. “This can be a bit distracting.”

  Two flames of light shot from the wizard’s palms, flaring up to brush the ceiling. He closed his hands into fists and the light was gone.

  “I have to get rid of it somewhere,” he explained.

  There was a dark smudge on the stones of the ceiling where the light had hit. There were dozens of other similar smudges on the stone above. Apparently, the wizard dealt with this sort of thing all the time.

  Obar made a soft clicking sound in the back of his throat. “Would that I could have dealt with that creature of Nunn’s as quickly.”

  Nick found himself suddenly angry with the wizard; like he had been holding back his feelings until he was sure that his dog was all right. But now that the worst of his worry about Charlie was out of the way, he thought about everything else that had happened—especially the way that creature had snatched Todd and Bobby.

  “What kind of wizard are you, anyway?” he demanded. “Apparently, not a very good one,” Obar confessed. He looked around at the overturned furniture and papers scattered across the floor. “At least we rid ourselves of that thing before it did some real damage.”

  “And you have Raven to thank for that,” the bird insisted again from where he now perched on a high shelf.

  “Why are we thanking you?” Nick asked, more skeptical with every passing minute. Todd and Bobby were gone, Obar couldn’t find them, and Raven didn’t even seem to want to try. He stared back at the wizard. “What have you gotten us into?”

  “No need to raise your voice,” Obar replied a bit testily. “We—that is, this bird here and myself—haven’t gotten you into anything. We’re trying to—well—let all of us survive it.”

  Nick simply didn’t want to accept this. “Well, you’ve got a funny way of trying. I mean, where are Todd and Bobby? Are they even still alive?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they are still alive. Otherwise I could tell, you see. Well, perhaps you can’t. However, it is not in Nunn’s best interest—that was who captured them, you know—but Nunn would not kill anyone—quite yet. They were destined for Nunn’s stronghold, I imagine.” He paused for another of his frowns. “But I’m certain they were tossed someplace else, thanks to the combined efforts of this bird and myself, since we managed to foil Nunn’s creature, didn’t we? Of course—I’m not certain where that someplace else is—well, at least for the moment.” Obar resumed the clicking noise at the back of his throat.

  “Combined?” It was Raven’s turn to make a derisive noise. The wizard clapped his hands together. “Well, I certainly hope that helps to ease your fears. I should be able to find them soon enough.” Obar frowned at Jason’s and Nick’s less-than-comprehending expressions. “Not clear enough, is it? I suppose it must be time for some—uh, deeper explanation, heh? That always does come up eventually.”

  “Raven needs no explanation,” the bird said to no one in particular. “Raven simply is.”

  “Then I would thank Raven to be still for those of us who do require clarification,” Obar said in a bit of a huff. “I will speak to Nick and Jason.” For an instant, Nick was surprised that the wizard even remembered their names. It made him wonder how much of the magician’s constant confusion was playacting.

  “We have certain advantages in this situation,” Obar continued. “First, we have experience.”

  “The dragon has done this before?” Jason asked.

  “Far too many times,” the wizard agreed. “You see, he stirs in his sleep from time to time. And, when he stirs, people arrive. And this sort of thing has been going on for”—Obar paused to chew on his mustache—“well, quite some time. Generations, at least. Some surmise that everyone here has, in one way or another, been brought to this place by the dragon.”

  “Raven is not dependent on any dragon,” the bird cawed. “Raven was here first. The dragon has only followed.”

  The black fowl stared moodily at Nick’s shoulder. Did Raven want an invitation to return? Nick could still feel the places where the bird’s claws had dug into his flesh.

  Obar turned and frowned out the window. “I do wish that tree man didn’t always want to stand around outside. He seems to be the only fellow who can control this squawking creature.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, as I was saying, we have advantages. We come equipped with a little knowledge, a certain amount of experience, and—oh, yes—we also have one of these.”

  He opened his fist to reveal a small green stone resting on his palm.

  Nick saw the stone, and then he didn’t. He felt that the tiny stone suddenly grew large so that it surrounded him—and not just him, but the whole room, and maybe the space beyond the room as well. Everything was diffused in a haze of green, a haze that did more than cover things in color. It seemed to change the nature of everything Nick looked at, as if rather than acting as camouflage, the green light revealed, showing the true objects that hid inside their everyday coverings. Jason had an aura that glowed faintly green. The light that hovered about the still-sleeping Charlie was red. Obar’s aura was not so clear. At first, it appeared to be almost blinding white. But, beneath the glow, Nick thought he saw another layer, so dark that it showed no light at all.

  Nick blinked. The green tinge was gone, the world looked as it had a moment ago, and the stone was just a stone.

  But he had seen the others through the green light. Now, if he could only make sense out of what he saw. Something about Obar reminded him of sharp edges, like a piece of slate so pointed that it could cut, and Raven looked like nothing so much as a clear black flame.

  “The dragon!” the bird squawked. “Raven has no use for the dragon!”

  Nick blinked again and shook his head. Now that the light was gone, he felt dizzy, disoriented, as if he had been suddenly snatched back
from looking down a bottomless well.

  “I don’t believe any of us would like to meet the dragon,” Obar said drily. “At least in person.” He examined the green jewel in his palm. Nick braced himself for another burst of light. “This, however,” the wizard continued, “is another matter entirely.” He closed his fingers over the stone and raised his fist into the air. “In this hand, I hold an eye of the dragon.”

  Jason snickered behind him. All this dragon talk must be too much for him. Nick was surprised how ready he himself was to accept it.

  “This is nothing to laugh at,” Obar remarked, more to himself than Jason, as he stared at his closed fist. Nick wondered if it felt strange to hold onto a stone like that.

  Obar looked up and smiled, as if a bit embarrassed by all this. “This is the root of all my power. It comes from the dragon. At least that’s the story, as I heard it. I doubt this is literally one of the eyes. Yet, I don’t question that the dragon can somehow sense through these things, that in a way they are an extension, shall we say, of that entity.” He tightened his fist around the stone, and his smile grew, more in ferocity than joy. “And through this, the dragon gives the bearer a portion of its fire.”

  He blinked and lowered his arm to his side, his expression again losing its intensity. “There are supposed to be seven of these things. At least that’s what I suspect. When you are dealing with the dragon”—he laughed abruptly—“well, no one ever wants to get close enough to make sure.”

  “All right!” Jason said with a sudden enthusiasm. “This finally makes some kind of sense. So we just have to go and get these things, huh?”

  Obar shook his head. “I don’t think you could, well, ‘get them’ so easily. Unless, of course, you are the correct person. Then, these ‘things,’ as you call them, will find you.”

  “So these things will look for us,” Jason insisted, “and once we get them, they will give us power?”

  “Indeed they will,” the magician agreed, “if you can learn how to handle them. They can just as easily kill you.”

  The bird became increasingly agitated. “Raven will steal these shiny baubles!”

  “There are certain things that even Raven doesn’t control,” Obar snapped, his own irritation now evident.

  “If we can’t go after these things,” Jason pointed out, “why are we here?”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t try,” was Obar’s somewhat gentler reply. “We have to try, no matter what the risks. Otherwise, the dragon might kill us all.”

  He laid the stone carefully on the table beside him. Jason took a step toward it.

  “Don’t touch it!” Obar said sharply. Green fire danced at the ends of his fingers.

  Jason quickly stepped away.

  “Sorry.” For once, Obar’s smile faltered. “It must be tended to most carefully. Wouldn’t want to see it fall into the wrong hands.” He ran his index finger gently across the face of the jewel, almost as if he stroked the skin of a loved one.

  The magician looked directly at Nick, perhaps the first time the magician had made eye contact. “If you encounter any of these things, you would be well advised to return them to me.”

  He stroked at his ragged mustache for a moment before he continued. “Nunn has two of these. I only hold this one. There are four more, somewhere on the seven islands. By themselves, they bequeath a certain amount of the dragon’s power on anyone who possesses them. But, on some level, I feel that the dragon might be the one really in control, and that it might possess us instead.” Obar seemed to shiver slightly. “Ah, but what if you were to possess all seven? Then, if my readings are correct, the situation changes. The seven eyes are the dragon’s true power. Whoever holds all of them should control the dragon—absolutely!”

  Obar looked quizzically at the two newcomers, as if he expected questions.

  “So that is the whole story?” Nick asked.

  “Well it is.” The magician paused to rub at his bald head. “That is, the story is as whole as I think you will understand at present. There are some things, quite frankly, that I do not understand myself. But that—what I told you—is what you’ll need to know.”

  Nick didn’t feel right about all this. “So we have to trust you?”

  “I would hope you’d do so, yes.” Obar frowned suddenly. “Oh, dear.

  You know, it is unwise to trust any wizard—fully.”

  Nick felt the ground shift beneath him. The disorientation he’d felt when he first looked at the jewel returned, like someone had flip-flopped the floor and the sky, and then put them back in place again. This was far worse than he had felt when looking in the jewel. But it reminded him of another shift of time and space, when he’d first come to this place.

  Raven squawked and took to the air, landing quickly on Nick’s shoulder. He didn’t object. It seemed proper, now, that the bird should be there.

  “At last,” Obar said, and now his smile was back completely. “At last?” Jason demanded. “At last what?”

  “I think we have what we’ve been looking for at last,” Obar answered. “You see, the dragon is calling you.”

  Around the Circle #5:

  The Day the Oomgosh Met Hut Match

  Once upon a time there was a man who was more than a man. And it wasn’t just that he was taller than other men, with skin the color of leaves and bark. One day he had simply stepped from the wood, from the darkest part of the forest where the shadows always seem to hold onto a little piece of the night. He had walked straight from that maze of greenery, as if the forest itself was his mother and his father, and all the trees his brothers and sisters.

  The people from the village rushed to meet him.

  “Greetings, stranger,” their leader called, holding forth his proud oak staff, which was his badge of office. “How may we welcome you?”

  The tall man looked down at them and smiled, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice boomed from one side of the valley to the other.

  “What is this place,” he called as people gathered around, “which is made out of wood which no longer grows?”

  And the people told him that this was the village where all of them lived and farmed, and that they used the wood to protect them from the rain and wind and cold.

  The large man thought about this for a moment and at last replied: “If the wood must be taken, then this is a good purpose.”

  So he stayed in the village for a time, to learn the way of his human brethren as well as he knew the way of the woods. And as he stayed the days and weeks and months, the children of the village would follow him about, like a dozen acorns rolling about a great oak. And the children called him Oomgosh, because he was a man and a half. After all, what else would you call someone so big and surprising?

  So it was that the Oomgosh learned about the human ways of sowing seed and growing grain, and taking the wood and stone and mud of the earth and building things with their hands.

  “You give to the earth as well,” the tall man remarked when he saw the villagers sow their seeds, and again when he watched them bury their dead. “This, too, is good.”

  And the people found a certain peace with the Oomgosh, for he moved slowly and gently for all his size, like a great maple swaying in the wind.

  So it was that all was peaceful in the village until another came: a man who was constant movement, as if he wanted everything that his eyes fell upon, and whose face was so bright that you would have to turn away or be blinded by its brilliance.

  The villagers gathered again to meet this stranger and to marvel that their home could attract two such wondrous visitors.

  “Greetings, stranger,” the village leader called, once again holding forth his proud oak staff, which was his badge of office. “How may we welcome you?”

  “What I want,” the newcomer said, “I take.”

  He touched the leader’s staff, and with a single flash of light, that staff was reduced to a pile of ash.

  All in the village shrank
back from this new arrival, save for their tall visitor, for the Oomgosh did not seem acquainted with fear.

  The tall man of green and brown stared down at the ashes with a frown. “This, then, is not good at all.” He looked at the one who was new to the village and asked, “Are you a man, or are you something else?”

  The newcomer’s smile was horribly bright as he replied, “I am nothing so pitiful as a human. I am Fire.”

  At this, the Oomgosh nodded, for he had met this creature’s smaller cousins, who helped the people with their cooking and gave them warmth in the cold of night.

  “Welcome, Fire,” he said in his gentle voice. “There is a place for you in the village, too.”

  But Fire replied, “I need no welcome. I go where I will and take what I want!” And, having said this, he strode to the nearest of the village’s dozen huts and stroked the wall of the hut only once. In an instant, the whole wall was consumed by flame.

  The villagers cried in alarm, but the Oomgosh took another step forward. “You have done what you must,” the tall green man called. “Now move on, so that the villagers may live as well.” But the bright one only shook his head and grinned even more fiercely than before. “Fire only grows. I eat a staff and I want a wall. I take a wall and I want the house. I consume the house and I desire the village. The more I eat, the more I hunger.”

  “There are no new beginnings here, only endings.” The Oomgosh stepped between this Fire and the rest of the village. “I must say no.”

  The tall man clapped his hands, and branches of nearby trees reached out to grab the bright one. But where their wood touched his arms, they burst into flame, and the limbs quickly turned to blackened stumps.

  “Whether my food is living or dead,” Fire replied, “makes little difference to me.” With that, great flames shot from his fingers to engulf the Oomgosh, so that there was again nothing left but a pile of ash.