Song of the Ovulum

by Bryan Davis

  “I’m back at the roof-access door.” Lauren forced her voice into a more even keel. “Bonnie’s been shot, and she’s in a cell with her husband and Matt at the lowest level. I got away, and I don’t think the guards know I’m here.”

  Larry continued. “I will summon the helicopter to alert its pilot and passengers. Lois will examine the facility’s schematic to determine the best access for a potential rescue. Since Code Red status has been initiated, everything humanly and dragonly possible will be done to complete the task.”

  “What’s a Code—”

  “Examination underway,” Lois said. “I will prepare a detailed plan in moments.”

  “Great, but what’s a—”

  Larry’s voice broke through again. “Jared, Marilyn, and Walter have provided the security keys necessary to complete the Code Red launch. I am contacting Second Eden to obtain their planned schedule.”

  “Second Eden?” Lauren imagined a flurry of communications zipping from helicopter to computer to the mysterious world everyone talked about but few people had actually seen. “How is Second Eden involved?”

  “Code Red requires no further interaction with you,” Lois said. “I have your location on my map, so if you move from that point, it is imperative that you let me know.”

  “Wait a minute!” Lauren hissed. “If you want me to participate in this Code Red thing, you’d better tell me what’s going on!”

  While Lauren continued a bone-rattling shiver, silence ensued. Finally, Larry spoke up. “Walter has authorized a higher security clearance for you, so I will provide the information. Red is the color of a male dragon’s scales, making Code Red an appropriate moniker for a rescue plan led by the king of all dragons. For your reference, a female has tawny scales.”

  “My analysis,” Lois said, “indicates that Lauren’s location is unsuitable for dragon entry. There is a wider door at the front of the research wing that compares favorably with Makaidos’s size. A dragon is able, however, to land on the roof where Lauren is. Since she can provide the intelligence necessary to find and rescue the prisoners, one of the dragons should pick her up as the operation begins.”

  “Here?” Lauren tapped the snow-covered floor with a finger, her voice spiking. “Right here? You’re sending a dragon to this spot?”

  “Not just a dragon,” Larry said. “The king of the dragons, Makaidos. We will soon learn how many dragons will accompany him and who their riders will be.”

  Lauren repeated the name in a trembling whisper. “Makaidos.”

  “Your rescue is at hand,” Larry continued. “King Makaidos successfully penetrated Fort Knox, and this facility is not as heavily fortified.”

  “But why? Why did you decide to launch Code Red after fifteen years of letting Bonnie and the others rot in prison?”

  A new voice broke in. “Lauren, this is Walter. I’m patched into your channel now. Listen, we’re going to let Larry and Lois do their thing, and I’m going to talk you through what’s about to happen.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. But did you hear my question?”

  “The fifteen-year question?”

  “Right. Why now?”

  “Because of you.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “I secretly got a DNA sample from you, just a strand of hair, and checked you out. You are an anthrozil. In fact, you are Billy and Bonnie’s daughter, Karen.”

  Lauren bit her lip. Although the news was no shock, it still hurt. It meant that every cherished photo was a lie. Her memories were nothing more than a dream. Of course, whoever fabricated her history did so to protect her, and the revelation meant that her real birth parents were Billy and Bonnie Bannister, which was great, but that didn’t lessen the pain. “Okay,” she said, sniffling. “I can deal with that. So, Matt’s my brother.”

  “Twin brother to be exact.”

  “One puzzle piece is missing. The last time I saw my adoptive mother, she wanted to tell me why we moved to Flagstaff, something about a friend from England. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

  “The friend was probably Sir Patrick, a guy who knew the foster-care systems inside and out. He had friends trying to find you. I guess one of them succeeded and adopted you. Maybe she moved you to this area so you could be closer to your real mother. She hid your identity from everyone, including me. Since I’ve been posing as an agent for the Enforcers, she didn’t know who to trust.”

  “She was getting ready to tell me, because she thought she was going to die soon, and …” Her throat tightened. “And I guess she was right.”

  “Yeah.” Walter’s tone became melancholy. “I guess she was.”

  Lauren swallowed, forcing a steady voice. “But none of this explains why you’re doing this Code Red thing after all this time.”

  “We have a spy in that prison named Sir Winston Barlow, and he told us the reason you were kidnapped. You have a dragon trait that hasn’t been seen since the days of Shachar, the first dragoness. Sir Barlow didn’t know what that trait was, but when I told King Elam about your ability to hear anything and your glow-in-the-dark skin, he told Makaidos. All of a sudden, they hit the Code Red button.”

  “Okay, so I have special traits. Why would hearing and glowing make them take such a risk?”

  “I don’t know yet. Elam said he would give me the details later. Must be huge, though. They never tried to rescue Billy, Bonnie, and Ashley before, because they think this place is a setup to lure the dragons into a trap.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. I heard talk about tanks and reinforcements, so they’re expecting some kind of invasion.” Lauren let out a deep sigh. “I just don’t get why anything about me is so important.”

  “Trust me. I understand. I don’t have any dragon traits, but you wouldn’t believe what I’ve been involved in. I’ve seen stuff that would make Medusa turn to stone.”

  “Okay, I get the point. But what do I do while I’m waiting?”

  “You’re safe where you are, right?”

  “I think so. They don’t have any reason to come looking for me. And I have a gun.” She almost added that she had killed a guard, but what good would that do?

  “Get some sleep. You’ll need the energy.”

  Lauren shivered again. Sleep? In this weather? With a near riot taking place a couple of floors below? “I can try.” She walked down to a dry stair and sat with her head against the wall. It was still cold, but bearable. “How will I know when to wake up?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of that. Meeting a dragon face-to-face is a wake-up call you’ll never forget.”

  “Okay. I suppose that’s something to look forward to.”

  She closed her eyes. With total exhaustion setting in, it felt good to rest. She could probably sleep in spite of all that was going on.

  Soon, a field of pure white formed in her mind—silence, perfect peace.

  THE SLAYER’S TRIUMPH

  Carrying the lyre, Joran ran across the white expanse. Just as silent as before, it seemed like an endless field of chalk that absorbed every sound, even his pounding footsteps and the slapping of the two sonic rods against his leg within his trousers pouch. Somewhere out there, a door to another ovulum lay ready for him to enter and explore … he hoped.

  To his left stood a barrier of white, a curved boundary that prevented anyone from going in that direction. Apparently that was the purity ovulum’s inner shell, so if he followed the perimeter, he wouldn’t miss an access to another ovulum.

  Every few seconds, he reached out with his left hand and touched the boundary. It was so smooth and silky, it barely felt like anything at all. The fanciful stories about the mysterious eggs certainly filled him with wonder, but nothing could have prepared him for this journey through nothingness.

  Soon, a hazy orange mist rose in the distance. Unlike the static blue doorway, this entry changed from a ragged square to a pulsing circle to a vertical ellipse to a n
umber of amorphous shapes, each shift coming with a geyser of flaming tongues that shot a dozen feet out into the whiteness before vanishing.

  Joran stopped beside the new passage. Now it looked like an undulating, flaming blanket as it hovered just above the white floor. He set a hand close to the fire. No heat radiated at all.

  Turning, he looked back. Somewhere in the distance, Tamiel probably lurked, the only one who could get Selah out of the lyre. Every moment he paused was another moment she remained trapped in that place of darkness. He had to go on.

  He tucked the lyre under his tunic and leaped through the blaze. For a few seconds, he floated in a sea of orange, tumbling and twisting. Then, as if spewed from a dragon’s snout, he flew in a wash of flames, burst out into cold air, and landed on a carpet of lush, damp grass.

  Protecting the lyre with his arms, he rolled to a stop. Several steps away, a woman with dark, braided hair sat against a tree, holding an orange ovulum in her hands. It hummed a lovely melody, a hymn his father once sang when he and Selah were much younger.

  She cocked her head. “Are you hurt?”

  Joran rose to his feet and pulled out the lyre. “I don’t think so.”

  “You …” The woman tapped her chin. “You appeared from nothing.” She gave him a broad smile. “Yes, appeared is the word.”

  “I suppose I did.” He glanced around. The thick grass spread out as far as the eye could see. A few trees towered in the midst of the meadow, most of them in full summer leaf. Behind him, a rocky path wound down a slope into a river valley far away, and a humble cottage of stone and mortar sat about fifty paces to his right. “My name is Joran,” he said, bowing.

  The woman rose and offered a clumsy bend of the knee, nearly dropping the ovulum in the process. Her face reddened, a stark contrast to her lily-white dress. “My name is Soren—” She covered her lips with her hand. “I mean, Tamara.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Tamara.” Joran studied her closely. Her skirt reached just below her knees, exposing bare legs and feet, not fitting for this cool, damp day. Her silky, see-through sleeves ended between her elbows and wrists, and her abdomen protruded in pregnancy, making the skirt hike slightly higher in front. Maybe the burden of carrying a child kept her warm.

  She glanced at the ovulum and gasped, as if forgetting she held it in her hands. She quickly slid it into a leather bag on the ground and sat cross-legged next to it. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit. I tire easily.”

  “By all means. Rest.” Morgan’s instructions to Devin raced through Joran’s mind. The woman was likely a former dragon, and she held one of the seven ovula as a device to protect herself. Yet, why could Tamara see him when Morgan could not? “Tamara, I’m not sure why I’m here or how I got here, but I need to warn you about something. I know you used to be a dragon, and someone is hunting for you. He intends to kill you.”

  “Oh, yes! Devin.” Her voice sounded more like that of a young girl than a mother-to-be. “I know about him. He is in England, and he will not likely … um … travel here to Wales.”

  “Wales?” Joran eyed her again. Apparently he stood in a region he knew nothing about. Judging from the summertime foliage combined with the cool temperature, this place wasn’t anywhere near home. “What do you call this language we’re speaking?”

  She glanced around, her smile wilting. “Is this a … a joke? Will someone jump out and laugh at me if I give the wrong answer?”

  “No, it’s not a joke. I’m a stranger here, so I thought you might have a word for it that I’m not familiar with.”

  “I see.” Her eyes kept darting, and her expression remained skeptical. “I am a poor … um … talker. So sometimes people make fun of me.”

  Joran raised a hand. “I promise I won’t.”

  “We are talking English. I was … um … surprised when I could understand you. Although we are all … Britons … most people here speak with strange sounds I do not understand.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “Legossi said she and I had to be apart … to stay away from Devin. She brought me here and said she would return to help me make … weapons, because she thinks the ovulum is not enough to keep us safe. But she stayed with me long enough to teach me how to …” Confused for a moment, she looked away, then turned back and gestured with her hands, as if stitching something with thread and needle.

  “To sew?”

  Letting out a relieved sigh, she smiled. “Yes, I sew.”

  Joran nodded. “Making and repairing clothes is an honorable profession.”

  She dipped her head and looked at her intertwining fingers. “I know,” she said in a dreary tone.

  “Is something wrong? Don’t you like to sew?”

  She lifted her head, a hint of alarm in her voice. “Oh, I like to sew. I love making things, especially beautiful dresses. It is just that I had a … a …” Her words trailed away.

  “You had a different dream?” Joran asked. “You wanted to pursue something closer to your heart?”

  She nodded, her head down again.

  He sat in front of her and touched her hand. “What is your dream, Tamara?”

  She looked up, tears glistening. “You will laugh at me.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.”

  “Well …” She smoothed out her dress, watching her nervous fingers while she spoke. “Many dragons tell stories, and I always wanted to tell stories, but my … talking is … is crippled. I can think fast in my head, but the words … stall before they get to my lips. When my mother told stories, I sometimes … acted them out. It was so much fun, and Mother said I was good at it.”

  “I see. I’m sure that made her storytelling more entertaining for others.”

  A thin smile emerged. “Yes. Other dragons came to watch.”

  “That must have been a lot of fun.”

  “It was, and that is why I wanted to continue, but dragons have no acting …” She gave him an expectant look. “Tradition?”

  Joran nodded. “Tradition is a good word, if you mean dragons prefer oral storytelling over dramatic reenactments. When I was around dragons, I never saw them act out a story.”

  “Yes, that is what I mean. But now that I am human …” She again seemed at a loss for words.

  “You want to be a performer, an actor.”

  “Yes, but that is not a … an honorable profession. And no woman is ever permitted. It is a dream that cannot come to pass.” As she turned away again, a tear dripped to her cheek. “And my talking is getting … worse, I think. Maybe soon I will not be able to talk at all.”

  “I see what you mean.” Joran took in a deep breath. What could he say? The same was true in his own time. Drama players were usually scoundrels, and no woman would be caught dead performing on a stage. It just wasn’t done. And Tamara? Since she could barely speak a complete sentence, how could she possibly recite lines in a play? And if her speech problems were getting worse, her handicap would keep her dream from ever coming true. It was better for her to dream about her next clothing creation. Still, who was he to smother her aspirations?

  “Here’s what I think, Tamara. Sometimes it looks like everything is going to crash all around, as if Elohim isn’t paying any attention to you. Then, he does something so surprising, you never would have guessed it, and everything changes. Maybe you’ll get a chance to act. You just have to wait for the opportunity and be ready to grab it when it comes. Don’t let anyone convince you that you can’t do it.”

  Tamara’s eyes misted. “I will remember that. Thank you for having … confidence in me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Joran fidgeted. Since he wasn’t sure how much confidence he really had in her, it would be best to change the subject. “Where is your husband?”

  Tamara set a hand on her protruding stomach. A slight pout exposed her bottom lip. “He is dead. Devin killed him after the …” She looked upward, again searching for a word.

&nbs
p; “Transformation?”

  “Yes. He did not become human, because he did not believe.” She tilted her head. “If you know about me, why did you not know this?”

  “I apologize. My knowledge is limited to what I have been told, which isn’t much.” He nodded toward the bag. “I do know that the ovulum you carry for protection might be the very object that leads to the destruction of the other dragons. Supposedly, each ovulum sings a song, and Devin has one that can detect the others, but he doesn’t know how to use it yet, so he has to find one former dragon to test it. He’s looking for you in particular, because he knows you’re pregnant, so you should be easier to find than the others.”

  Tamara lifted the bag to her ear. “I hear no song.”

  “No,” Joran said, waving a hand. “You don’t understand. It’s inaudible to most humans. Only a Listener like me can hear it.”

  “A Listener?” Shaking her head, Tamara heaved another sigh and rubbed her belly. “I wish I could ask more questions, but speaking is hard. If only a … a gentleman would take me as his wife, then I would be … protected. I would have someone to speak for me, and my daughter would have a father. As long as I live alone, people will …” Again she searched for a word.

  “Gossip?”

  She nodded gratefully. “As you said, since Devin knows that I am with … youngling, it will not take long for him … to find me. Yet, few are the men who would do such a kindness, to take a widow such as I into his arms. As long as I am alone, I am … in danger.”

  Tamara’s words pierced Joran’s heart like a dagger. This poor woman really did need a husband, and her emphasis on kindness plunged the dagger even deeper. The orange ovulum represented kindness, so somehow he had to play the role of protector, at least for as long as he could. “You call your baby your daughter. How do you know the gender?”

  She set the ovulum bag at her side. “When the time gets close, we dragons can tell. Before I changed, I knew.”

  “So when you changed, I suppose she changed, too. You couldn’t carry a baby dragon inside.”