Dragon Sleeping (The Dragon Circle Trilogy Book 1)

by CRAIG SHAW GARDNER

  Maggie walked a few feet to grab a vine. “This is as good a place as any to begin.”

  “Please hurry,” Mrs. Dafoe said softly.

  “Swift and silent, that’s our motto,” Wilbert assured her. He grunted as he pulled himself off the ground.

  All four of the Volunteers were already making their way up the vines. Todd and Nick hurried to follow.

  Raven fluttered aloft as Nick sprang into action. “Raven will fly ahead. Perhaps Raven can cause a distraction!”

  The Oomgosh chuckled at that. “You are the most distracting bird I know, my Raven. Go quickly, all of you!”

  Before they put poor Mary Lou in a pot, was what he didn’t say. If that were to happen, the Oomgosh would become very angry indeed.

  Forty-Seven

  It only takes a second, Nunn thought, for everything to change. He cupped both his hands around his newest darling, his third dragon’s eye. With this in hand, there was no way he could lose.

  “Where’d they go?” Carl Jackson glanced uncertainly back at the wizard, as if unsure he should speak at all.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nunn replied. “Not anymore.” He glanced over at Sayre and the Captain, freezing both in place. They looked like statues, the Captain representing the malnourished, while Sayre stood for death and decay.

  He looked back to the living. “I would like to congratulate you, Mr. Jackson, upon your efforts on my behalf.” He nodded first at Jackson, then at Dafoe. The second man began to squirm as soon as Nunn looked his way.

  “Mr. Dafoe,” Nunn added, “I think you could have done better than that.” He liked Mr. Dafoe. He liked anyone whom he could make uncomfortable.

  “There appears to be a void of leadership in my palace guard,” he continued. “Carl, you will be the new Captain. Harold will be your second-in-command. Together, we will run not only my home but also this entire world. I will give you further instructions on this—shortly.

  “Now you’ll have to excuse me.” He could feel all three gems pulsing beneath his fingers. “I have other matters to attend to.”

  With a wave of his hand, he returned to his study, a study once again devoid of doors. Nunn took comfort in the darkness.

  A minute ago, he had almost failed. All his enemies seemed to conspire against him, including some he had thought were powerless. A wizard’s psyche was so fragile. Encounter someone like this Evan Mills, and you invited disaster. As far as Nunn could determine, Mills had upset certain things within the wizard, his unauthorized entry activating a few of the hundred personalities that made up all those little parts of Nunn. And those personalities were capable of damage that Mills could not even imagine. Who would think a danger like that might come from within?

  It was like the arrow he took in the shoulder, Nunn reflected, a surprise attack that got past his defenses, even with the extra strength and speed given by two of the eyes. He was not so invulnerable as he had thought.

  But that was so long ago, when he had only two eyes.

  Now it was so much better. Now there were three eyes. His speed and strength, doubled before, would double again, and the eyes would allow him to split his consciousness and join with three separate powers, to witness three things at once, or weave three spells into an impenetrable web. There’d be no more arrows, no attacks from within. With the power of these three eyes, he would destroy anything that stood in his way.

  He had work to do. It would take a little while to incorporate this third eye, to find the balance with which all three could work together. Once that was accomplished, Nunn would calmly destroy Obar and Mrs. Smith, and gain eye number four. It would be easy after that to gather the other neighbors for his amusement, and his hunger.

  The new eye felt warm, nestled between the other gems. And the three parts of the dragon, linked together so, showed Nunn something new.

  The other eyes were waiting for him. He had always known they were there somewhere, out among the seven islands, but before this, they had been hidden from him. Sometimes, with two eyes, he had been able to vaguely sense their existence, but now he could feel their pull, as if those last remaining gems wished to join their brothers and sisters. Was this the power of the third gem, already filling him? Or were the gems suddenly free of their hiding spells, another sign from the dragon that he was about to come and reclaim his own?

  Nunn couldn’t tell. And he didn’t care. He only knew that now he could gain all seven of the stones, so that when the dragon came, he could say, “No! You can’t have these! I am keeping this power for my own!” For, if that old wizard Rox had survived the last passing of the dragon with only three eyes in his possession, with all seven Nunn should be able to ride on the dragon’s back!

  Laughter burst out of him. He’d make the dragon dance! But he had to be careful. This new power he held was inebriating.

  There were things he had to do before he could claim it all.

  Things both without and within.

  “He knows,” was all the cloud said.

  Mills stared at the thing that had once been a wizard. “Are you talking about Nunn?”

  “I must make certain precautions,” was the thunderhead’s only reply. “You would be well advised to do the same.”

  Mills looked around, as if he might somehow find those precautions the thunderhead referred to. The room seemed to be growing more indistinct, as if everything was becoming part of the cloud.

  “Precautions?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  “We haven’t even begun the lessons, have we?” the cloud murmured. “Too bad there hasn’t been more time. I will see what I can do. In any event, this diversion has been quite pleasant. I never thought I could get back at Nunn. Actually, I hadn’t been thinking about anything whatsoever.” The thunderhead sighed. “I imagine that will happen again. Remember what we’ve done. Remember that feeling of success, if you can remember anything at all.”

  This, Mills thought, did not sound promising. “What’s that?” Leo wailed.

  In the comers of the room, the clouds were fading, replaced by blinding light.

  “Nunn is doing his housecleaning,” the thunderhead remarked. Even the great grey cloud appeared less distinct than it had before.

  “Is he going to destroy us now?” Leo asked miserably.

  “Nunn doesn’t destroy anything completely,” the cloud continued, its voice the soul of calm. “He simply seeks to control. Any independent energy you have will be drained away completely. But some part of you will remain.”

  The light swept across the room toward the thunderhead. “Goodbye,” the cloud said.

  The light flooded across the image of sky. The thunderhead was gone. There was nothing but light.

  “The light’s coming this way!” Leo shouted. “Run!”

  “Where?” Mills replied. Perhaps a bit of the cloud’s calmness had passed along to him. Or perhaps he simply realized there was no escape. How could they run away when they were trapped inside Nunn?

  The light sliced across the room like a knife through paper, a light that would wash away every one of Nunn’s woes.

  Leo Furlong screamed as the brightness roared toward them. The sound cut off abruptly as Mills was lost in the light.

  Nunn smiled.

  Things seemed so much quieter now.

  The eyes were working together already. As he withdrew from his inner purge, the gems showed him three images at once. There were Obar and Smith, not talking at all in a clearing, as if the two of them were in shock. And that tree man, surrounded by the other neighbors, rushing through the forest on some grand adventure. And there was that annoying black bird, Raven, swooping through the trees above a crowd of the Anno, all dancing about a great cook pot. He blinked, letting his eyes seek new subjects. There was Carl Jackson, yelling at Harold Dafoe to shape up or they’d both be in trouble. There was the King of the Wolves, growling to the remains of his pack about revenge against the humans. And there was a procession of the Anno, marching toward t
heir village, taking great care with something in their midst, carrying what must be a most precious cargo. Nunn could not make out that part of the image, though. It was fuzzy; indistinct. He wondered if the third eye might have some defect. What might be beyond its power?

  He realized with a thrill that the Anno must have been carrying Mary Lou. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see her when he could see everything else. Even she could no longer hide from the wizard’s power.

  Nunn let the images fade back into the darkness of his room. The three gems seemed to balance each other perfectly, as if they were meant to work together, and he was meant to be their owner. Perhaps, the wizard thought, the dragon was not as neutral on these things as legend claimed. Perhaps that all-powerful creature preferred that a certain type of man would wield the dragon’s power, maybe even going so far as to influence the placement of its power so that it fell into the proper hands. Nunn laughed. Perhaps the way this third gem fell into his hands was a sign from the dragon itself, a blessing on Nunn’s actions, and a harbinger of the greatness that was to come.

  Before that greatness could begin, Nunn had to add the third eye to his collection. He had placed the first two in the flesh of his palms so that they would always be a part of him, and he would always share in their power. But, with a dragon eye on his either side, where should he place the third?

  Of course, he realized, there was only one place for the newest gem, one spot to display proudly the gift from the dragon, to let all those who came before him know that he was heir to the dragon’s power. Once he thought of this, he realized there was no other place for the eye to go.

  He felt the heat of the stone as it rubbed against his fingers. His hands tingled with the sensation as he rolled the stone about the other eyes, as the power of all three gems built, waiting for the magic to burst forth. Nunn breathed deeply, letting the energy wash over him for a minute while the stones reached their peak.

  The moment was near, so familiar from his use of the two stones, but so much more now with three. The energy seethed from finger to palm to thumb, then spread to wrist and elbow and shoulder. Nunn allowed himself a moment of the fullness the power brought before he concentrated on placing it back into the stone.

  Now, he thought.

  He brought both hands up to his face and placed the stone against his forehead. Although the stone was dark, it felt white- hot against his skin, for the eye still held all its energy within.

  “Now!” Nunn shouted as he pressed the stone into his flesh. He heard his skin sizzle as the great heat burned it away and filled his lungs with the acrid smell of sorcerous fire. He pressed his palms against the newest stone, so that two eyes pressed against the third, heat adding to heat, and heard the bone bubble and boil as the skull melted to make way for the facets of the gem. As the power grew, so did the vibrations that spread from his hands to rack his whole body. And now he could feel those same resonances in that space above his eyes as well, great sweeping tremors of energy that threatened to make him collapse. But he wouldn’t stop yet, not before he was truly fulfilled. A final moment of concentration, and he would be done.

  Nunn screamed for joy as the dragon’s eye pushed into his forehead.

  Evan Mills opened his eyes. Or at least he tried to. It was far too bright.

  “About time!” a high, whiny voice announced. “Zachs is not to be kept waiting!”

  “Zachs?” Mills asked, remembering the creature of light as he repeated its name. He had met the thing somewhere inside Nunn. It felt very long ago. He couldn’t remember much that had happened since. He did remember light and then blankness. How had he regained consciousness?

  “Zachs hides,” the whiny voice said proudly. “Zachs knows Nunn. Waits for the right moment. Nunn gains power. Zachs lives for power!”

  “What do you want from me?” Mills asked.

  “You woke Zachs!” the thing insisted. “You’re Zachs’ friend. Now Zachs wakes you! Together, we will use Nunn’s power! Together, we will find a way to get free!”

  So that’s why the creature was here. It knew Mills had somehow been independent of the wizard’s power before. Now it wanted Mills to show it some way out.

  Except Mills didn’t know a way out, didn’t even know the exact nature of the place they now were in.

  But he did know another thing or two.

  “Zachs,” he replied, “there is a way out of here. But we will have to wake a couple of the others first.”

  The creature giggled. “Zachs will wake everyone. Power enough for all!”

  “Yes, Zachs,” Mills agreed. “Power and freedom, too.”

  Forty-Eight

  The King of the Wolves was worried.

  He had already lost a part of his pack to these treacherous humans. And he could hear rumblings from those that remained, that he was no longer worthy of leadership, that he should be challenged and killed.

  The wolves needed meat. Not that they were truly hungry; they were skilled hunters, and took down small animals and the occasional larger creature, like those three red-furred things that came from another island. But they held a different, deeper appetite. The humans had rebuffed them too many times. They needed to tear apart soft human flesh, to taste the salty blood that only came from man and woman.

  He scented humans often now. There were many of them in the wood these days. A great group of them had passed through here only moments ago, including a number armed with those sharp flying and stabbing things to cut the life from a wolf. They were not the best place to start.

  The King of the Wolves prowled, barking for the others to follow. His pack might grumble against him, but they still obeyed. He caught the smell of other humans on the wind. A smaller group this time, only four, and two of them had the particular stink that came to humans with age. But old meat was better than no meat at all, especially when its real purpose was to lift the spirits of the pack. After they were done with the aged, the two others would give them more tender, juicier fare. Maybe, the King thought, they could keep one or two of them alive in a Man Trap and lengthen their feast. No one would question the King of the Wolves after that.

  The King moved forward warily, growling for the others to follow, but at a distance. He would scout this prey himself. He wanted no chance of failure. Yes, he could see all four of them in the brightness of the clearing ahead. They hardly moved at all, instead sitting and leaning against the ground, plainly exhausted. The old man’s head kept nodding down, as if he was fighting sleep. The old woman stared up into the trees, perhaps looking for something far away. Another woman of middle years stared at the ground, muttering to herself. The only one who appeared to be any sort of trouble was the fourth, a youngster who spent half his time talking to the woman who looked at the ground, and the other half pacing the clearing.

  It already looked like these four had lost a great battle. They appeared exhausted and dispirited, not much of a foe at all. The wolves would have the human meat they needed, after all. And maybe, the King thought, they’d save the boy for later.

  The King of the Wolves howled for the pack to follow as he broke into a run. Three of the four in the clearing ahead didn’t even seem to notice his cry.

  He broke into the clearing with a great growl. It wouldn’t do if these humans were too dispirited. Their meat tasted so much better if it had been flavored with a scream or two, just before they were taken down.

  “Wolves!” the boy cried.

  “Yesss!” the King of the Wolves exulted. “Ssit sstill. It willl be overrr quicklyy.”

  “What?” The old man started, as if he had indeed been sleeping. “Oh, bother.”

  He pointed at the King. Green light shot from the man’s finger. The King of the Wolves screamed in pain.

  Wizards! Was there no end to this human trickery? He howled a warning to the rest of the pack. The King somehow got his paws beneath him and scrambled from the clearing.

  There were no sounds of pursuit. The humans seemed to sti
ll be sitting there, as if there had been no attack at all.

  He was safe from the wizard, then.

  The King was not so sure about his pack. They had been promised human meat. The grumbles would soon become growls, and he would find his throat tom out and be left to bleed to death on a forest trail.

  The King of the Wolves roared to all of the woods. “Frustrating, isn’t it?” a voice said behind him. A human voice.

  The King spun about, ready to defend himself. But the tall, pale creature before him made no move toward him. He did not look precisely human, either, although he might once have been a man, for he had a great, green jewel embedded in his forehead, a jewel that lit the whole forest around him.

  “Whoo arre youu?” the King of the Wolves demanded.

  “A friend,” the stranger said with a smile. The King didn’t like it when humans, or things that looked like humans, smiled. “A friend who has recently acquired a bit of power. I saw your frustration when you attacked those humans. Perhaps there could be a way to lend you a bit of my power, so that you could go back and destroy them.”

  “Desstroy?” the King growled warily.

  “Let us say that this is something I wish to see done as well,” the stranger replied. “Because of this, I might be able to give you certain abilities that would make you faster, fiercer, better than you are. Are you interested in making a bargain?”

  The King of the Wolves reared up on his hind legs. For once, he was ready to listen to a human voice.

  Forty-Nine

  The wolf seemed to have woken them all up. At least, all of them besides Bobby’s mother. She smiled as she stared at someplace nobody else could see, murmuring words of comfort to her husband and son.

  “Do you have your lunch? I made that sandwich especially. How was your day, dear? Oh, the lines at the supermarket were terrible. And they have to do something about that traffic—” She’d shiver from time to time, but then start her monologue again, reassuring words from the family and neighbors. “Did you see that thing the Smiths put on their lawn? What’s happening to this neighborhood? I made your favorite for dinner—”