Song of the Ovulum

by Bryan Davis

  After rising about ten feet, the column stopped. Three long gun barrels protruded out of the side facing Lauren and Matt, like cannons on a sci-fi space cruiser. Aiming toward the sky, they shot beams of light through the falling snow. More beams emanated from the back and sides, maybe eight in all.

  When the beams reached a point about a hundred feet in the air, they stopped abruptly, as if striking a barrier, and the light spread out to form a radiant sheet that widened until it covered and illuminated the entire facility in a shimmering dome. Snowflakes melted as they struck the top and streamed down the curved sides, but the wind continued blowing through, as blustery as ever.

  Lauren pointed at the research wing’s roof. “That’s Mom’s friend Ashley, warning someone about a trap, but I didn’t see anyone else.”

  A dragon swooped down and crash-landed on the lab’s roof, spraying snow all around. Ashley climbed up its side and sat behind a drooping winged man. Then, with Ashley propping the man up, the dragon took off again. As the wind beat against its body, it flew erratically. Heading directly toward Lauren and Matt, it crossed over the fence dividing the two sections of the prison, then crashed again and slid, sending high arcs of snow cascading over their heads.

  The man toppled to the side. The dragon caught him with a wing and set him gently on the snow. With limp arms and legs, he appeared to be unconscious or dead.

  “This is my brother, Gabriel,” Ashley shouted as she leaped from the dragon. “He has a candlestone embedded under his skin, and Legossi has one somewhere beneath her scales. I have to cut them out somehow.”

  “I have a knife,” Matt called as he ran toward her, digging into his pocket.

  Lauren followed and stopped next to one of Gabriel’s splayed wings. Ashley straddled Gabriel’s body, a knee planted on each side, and ripped open his shirt. “Are you going to do surgery right here?” Lauren asked.

  “No choice.” She took the knife from Matt and opened the blade. “Legossi, do you have enough fire to sterilize this?”

  “I believe so.” Legossi snaked her neck around Lauren. Lauren sidestepped, gaping at the amazing creature as the scaly head passed by. At any other time, she would probably have been scared out of her wits, but after seeing so many bizarre things lately, a dragon seemed mild.

  Legossi blew a thin stream of fire on the blade. Ashley turned it, allowing the other side to catch the flames. “The candlestone isn’t deep, and we have to get these warriors back in the air. The other dragons can’t penetrate the Excalibur rays.”

  “Excalibur rays?” Lauren hugged her body, shivering. “I can’t read your mind right now, so tell us what you know.”

  Ashley ran her fingers across a lump on Gabriel’s pectoral. “When the Enforcers took the two of you from your parents, they also stole Excalibur. It’s a sword that shoots out a beam that changes matter into light energy, a process called translumination. It can also create a shield, like an umbrella of energy, so it looks like they’ve replicated the beam. I know it can be done, because I did the same thing with a device I invented.” She cut into the lump. Gabriel winced but didn’t cry out. As blood streamed, she pushed her finger inside and withdrew a tiny sphere, coated red. “I left one of the candlestone guns on the roof. It’s a clever and damaging weapon, but now its ammunition will help the healing process. If Legossi can provide more fire, we’ll be in business.”

  “I think so,” Legossi said, “but I am weakening.”

  Matt pointed at the research building with the baton. “Billy’s on the lower level. He’s got one of those candlestone bullets in his head and can’t move. The hallway was designed for dragons, so maybe Legossi can get down there. In the meantime, I have to find Bonnie. A demon abducted her.”

  “A demon?” Ashley shook her head. “Tell me later. I’ll take Gabriel inside, and we’ll look for Billy. When I get everyone on their feet, I’ll be back.”

  “So what do we do?” Lauren asked. “I don’t think we can find Bonnie. Tamiel’s probably long gone by now.”

  Ashley pointed at the laser guns. “Disable those.”

  Lauren pivoted toward the raised platform. “With what?”

  “A mechanism that creates a transluminating beam is susceptible to cold temperatures. That’s why they’re under cover. Probably only the barrels are exposed.” Ashley slid her arms under Gabriel and grunted as she lifted. “Expose the machinery, and you’ll probably freeze it up.”

  Matt helped Ashley push Gabriel onto Legossi’s back. While Legossi propped Gabriel with a wing, Matt gave Ashley a boost. Once both had settled, Legossi beat her wings and skittered along the path toward the lab, her back claws scratching at the ground. With a flap and a leap, she vaulted over the fence before descending again and continuing her awkward run.

  “She took the knife,” Matt said as he slapped the baton against his palm. “This is the only weapon we have left.”

  “She probably needs the knife more than we do.” Lauren bounced on her toes. It was so cold! How could Matt stand there without a hint of a shiver?

  Grabbing her elbow, he leaned close and shouted through the strengthening wind. “Ready?”

  Lauren tapped her jaw twice. “Can you hear me through your tooth?”

  “Now I can. Loud and clear.”

  “Good. We don’t have to shout.” Heaving a sigh and a cloud of white vapor, she gazed at the laser guns. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Not really, but they probably don’t expect someone on the ground to—” His brow lifted. “Maybe we should follow that guy.”

  A man wearing a parka and prison guard pants staggered across the field from right to left, holding a hand against his chest and carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder. White plumes rising with his heavy breaths, he stopped at the edge of the weapons column and looked up at one of the gun barrels several feet above his head.

  “That looks like Sir Barlow,” Lauren said. “He’s on our side.”

  “Then let’s go!”

  As they ran toward the snow-laden field, Sir Barlow threw his rope over a gun barrel, caught the end, and tied it to a bolt at the base of the column. When they arrived, he spun toward them and staggered back a step. “Oh! Lauren and Matt! You startled me!” His eyes narrowed. “Where is Ashley?”

  Matt pointed with his thumb. “Back in maximum security. She’s doing surgery on the wounded.”

  “Good. A stitch in time saves lives.” Sir Barlow reached the rope toward Matt. “Can you climb? I think I have lost my strength.”

  “Sure.” Matt took the rope. “What happened?”

  “I was shot while disabling the searchlights. He got me in the shoulder, so I doubt that I can climb that high.”

  Matt laid the baton down and pulled on the rope with both hands. “What do I do when I get up there?”

  “You can use these.” Sir Barlow withdrew a pair of gloves from his parka, both designed for a right hand. “They are supposed to control this gun and the one next to it, but I couldn’t get them to work. I think we’re too far from the control panel. Perhaps if you get closer, you can alter their aim enough to break the shield.”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  Lauren nodded. “We both will.”

  “The gloves have sensitive electrodes,” Sir Barlow said, “so you shouldn’t grip the rope with them. I will toss them and my gun once you’re up. If all else fails, just do whatever damage you can. There is likely no one inside. Since I took the control gloves, the gun operators have nothing to do in there.”

  “Sounds good.” Matt leaped and scrambled up the rope hand over hand, then swung onto the barrel, straddling it with his face toward the muzzle. Barlow sent his gun flying into Matt’s waiting hands, then tossed one of the gloves.

  As Matt began sliding backwards toward the support shaft, Lauren grabbed the rope and pulled it down. With a quick spin, she whipped it over the adjacent gun barrel and began climbing. When she reached the top and straddled the
barrel, Sir Barlow threw the second glove. After catching it and putting it on, she started her slide. “What do you see?” she whispered.

  Matt touched the column. “It’s some kind of hard plastic. It might be bulletproof.”

  “Let’s try the gloves.”

  “Shhh! Wait a second! I sense danger.”

  Underneath them, Sir Barlow hurriedly untied the rope and reeled it into a loop. With a quick turn, he saluted, knocking back his parka’s hood. “All is clear, sir.”

  Colonel Baxter, also wearing a parka, returned the salute. Portia stood next to him, hugging herself and shivering. With only a hooded sweatshirt over her prison jumpsuit, the wind had to be biting through to her skin. “What are you doing out here, Sergeant?” the Colonel asked.

  Lauren flattened her back against the support column. Matt did the same. Fortunately, the structure’s “brim” provided shade, though not much. There seemed to be no escape from the surrounding dome’s radiance.

  “The searchlight stopped,” Sir Barlow said, his voice strained, “so I came out to see what might be wrong.”

  Lauren looked at her glove. It had a tiny rocker switch on the side of the index finger, easily accessible by the thumb. The activation switch? Maybe. But should she try it with the Colonel standing so close?

  “Didn’t you get the word that we’re under attack by dragons?” the Colonel asked. “You’re supposed to be gathering with the others in maximum security. We have to repel the beasts!”

  “I heard the order, but I also heard gunshots, so I thought—”

  “You thought?” The Colonel pressed a thumb against his chest. “I gave that order, so I will take the risks. That’s why I am personally checking on the searchlight.”

  “Lauren,” Matt whispered. “I found the switch that turns the glove on.”

  “Same here. Should we try it?”

  “Yes. Just keep that hand still and test it slowly.”

  “But that’s not all,” Sir Barlow said, waving a hand, as if reenacting. “This gun battery behind us rose out of the ground. I must say, sir, that I was quite shocked to see it.”

  Lauren flipped the switch. The glove vibrated slightly, raising a tingle that rode up her arm and across her body. The sensation was sure to activate her scales.

  The Colonel put on a condescending smirk. “You weren’t supposed to know about it, but now that it’s in service, I can tell you. It’s a top-secret weapon we’re using to deflect the dragons. It activated automatically when the attack began, and the operators are on their way now. They should be inside in a matter of minutes. Then they will drop the shield and use the guns as offensive weapons.” He nodded at the rope coiled around Sir Barlow’s shoulder. “Why do you have that?”

  Lauren turned the glove counterclockwise less than an inch. The gun shifted a hair to the left but not enough for anyone to notice.

  “I found it lying on the ground next to the searchlight tower,” Sir Barlow said. “I was taking it back to storage.”

  “Did you check on the tower guard?”

  “I did, sir. There’s a malfunction in the turning motor. The weather, I suppose.”

  “Not likely. Those motors were tested in subzero conditions.” The Colonel looked toward the tower. “Could another dragon have gotten through?”

  “Did one get through the shield, sir?”

  “Never mind. Get to maximum security with the others. I have to check on something.” The Colonel walked a few steps toward the tower, lifted a phone to his ear, and barked into it. “Stewart! What’s going on up there? … Stewart? Can you hear me?” Cursing, he pressed a button on the phone. “Control room, this is Colonel Baxter.”

  “Lauren,” Matt said. “I think I have the glove figured out.”

  “Me, too. Should we wait for them to leave?”

  “Yeah. Hold tight for a minute.”

  Portia scooted up to Sir Barlow and whispered. The words rode across Lauren’s back and entered her ears. “Leave … now … fast.”

  “Why, Miss?” Sir Barlow asked. “If you are in danger, I cannot leave you behind.”

  “He … kill you.” Her face brimming with fear, she slid to where the Colonel stood, his back still toward them.

  The Colonel pivoted and faced Sir Barlow. They stood about five steps apart, their profiles in Lauren’s view. “Stewart’s not answering.”

  “He isn’t?” Sir Barlow’s brow lifted. “Well, perhaps he is trying to repair the—”

  “Cut the nonsense!” The Colonel reached under his parka and pulled out a handgun. “I’ve been watching you, Hoskins. I’ve seen you meander off the patrol route too many times, and now I heard from the weapons unit that the control gloves are missing. What did you do with them?”

  “Control gloves?” Sir Barlow spread out his bare hands. “I have no control gloves.”

  “If you don’t, then who did you give them—” The Colonel’s eyes darted toward the laser weapons. “Ah! I see your coconspirators!”

  He aimed the gun toward Lauren and Matt. Sir Barlow heaved the rope coil at the Colonel’s chest and leaped at him. The two rolled in the snow, punching and kicking. Portia grabbed the Colonel’s hair with one hand and gouged at his eyes with the other.

  Lauren gripped the laser barrel with her bare fingers, shivering harder than ever. “What can we do?”

  “Stay calm,” Matt whispered as he aimed Sir Barlow’s gun. “I’m using my left, but if I can get a clean—”

  A muffled gunshot sounded. The Colonel threw Sir Barlow to the side and climbed to his feet. Portia backed away, hugging herself as her body quaked.

  “So the two of you were in on this together.” The Colonel aimed his gun at her. “After all I’ve done for you.”

  “No,” Portia said, still backing away. “I have … daughter. Don’t kill.”

  “You should’ve thought of that before you turned traitor.” He pulled back the gun’s hammer. “No need to waste time with a trial.”

  THE GREEN OVULUM

  A shot rang out. The Colonel toppled over onto Sir Barlow. Matt’s laser barrel lurched downward, and the beam ripped into the ground, sending a streak of radiance that melted the snow in its path and washed over Sir Barlow and Colonel Baxter.

  As Matt slid forward, he threw his smoking handgun to the ground and manipulated the glove, raising the barrel again. The beam lifted back to the sky and joined the others.

  A cloud of vapor rose from the point where the two men had fallen, hiding their bodies from view. Portia staggered toward them and fell on her knees at their side.

  Lauren gasped. “What did you do?”

  “I must’ve disintegrated them!”

  “Now what?”

  “I’m turning off my glove.” Matt leaped to the ground. “Let’s go!”

  Lauren switched off her glove. Grasping the barrel with one hand, she swung down to a hanging position before dropping into Matt’s arms. After steadying her, he picked up the handgun and slid it behind his waistband.

  As they ran to Portia, a gust blew the vapor away, revealing a gap in the snow and a small collection of metallic objects—two handguns, one of them a semitransparent weapon similar to Catherine’s; two belt buckles and name tags; several coins; a gun magazine; various buttons and rivets; a cell phone; a brass box; and a gold ring. The rope lay in the snow several feet away, still coiled.

  Portia covered her face and sobbed. Lauren bit the fingers of her control glove and pulled it off. Dropping to her knees, she laid an arm around Portia.

  As they wept together, Matt stripped off his glove. His hands shaking, he opened the brass box and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it as he drew it close. After clearing his throat, he read it with a shaky voice. “To whoever reads this, I hope you found my humble will and testament on my corpse on the battlefield. I am over a thousand years old, and although I can name a hundred glorious days in which I have witnessed God’s wondrous miracles, if I
died in valor, then this is the finest day of my life. I can ask for nothing better. I have no dependents, so kindly see to it that my meager belongings are given to a worthy charity, preferably one that cares for needy children. To you, my good fellow or lass, I hope to see you in Paradise, my new home. My battles are finally over. In the name of Jesus Christ my Savior, Sir Winston Barlow, formerly of Hinkling Manor.”

  Lauren reached into the pile and picked up the cell phone. After sliding it into her pocket, she lifted the ring, the rubellite ring she had dropped in the stairwell. Her hands trembling, she slid it over her finger. It fit perfectly. “Thank you for rescuing us, Sir Barlow.” She brushed a tear from her eye. “You are a gallant knight, indeed.”

  Matt returned the note to the box. After helping Lauren and Portia rise, he picked up the semitransparent gun. “Just what we need—a candlestone shooter.”

  Lauren rubbed a finger across the smooth, glass-like casing. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to shoot at the dome and see what happens. I’m hoping the bullets will break the dome down enough to let the dragons through.”

  “More dragons are out there?”

  “Yes, I can see three shadows flying overhead. I think the shield is keeping them from communicating with us, so maybe punching a hole will help with that, too.”

  “Why don’t we try the gloves again?” Lauren asked. “If we lower two guns, maybe it will be enough to knock out the dome.”

  Matt aimed the gun nearly straight up. “We’ll do both.”

  “I take them.” Portia scooped up the control gloves and ran toward the Colonel’s office.

  Lauren opened her mouth to shout for her to stop, then closed it again. “Portia’s deaf. Should I run after her?”

  “Let her go. She’s obviously on our side, and maybe she knows something we don’t.” Matt squeezed the trigger. The muzzle made a popping sound and sent a glittering sphere rocketing toward the sky. The bullet hit the dome and stuck there, as if embedded in the wall of light. Like a termite gnawing through wood, it attached to the dome and ate a small hole in the shield, its attraction to light overcoming the pull of gravity. As the bullet inched along, the hole grew bigger, only to be closed off from behind as the laser guns continued pumping energy into the dome.