Otherlander: Through the Storm

by T. Kevin Bryan

  Thomas counted. “1,2,3, 4…” On nine the thunderclap sounded, rumbling away in the distance. The storm wasn’t that close. He drew the curtains, then stopped. There it was again, that same feeling. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.

  He leaned in so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. He wiped the condensation away and scanned the yard in front of his house. It was dark, but the front porch light was on and there seemed to be nothing out of place. The feeling left.

  Five

  The huge black dog sat in the shadow of the large oak tree. He stared up at the second-story window and observed his prey. From there he could see the boy searching the yard from the upper window. The dog knew the male child could not see him. He was in the darkness. Darkness was where he lived: where he thrived, where he hunted. The boy finally gave up and grabbed the curtains and yanked them closed. Not long now, the dog thought, licking his chops with his crimson tongue. He turned and dissolved into shadow and mist.

  Thomas and his mother sat across from each other at the dinner table. The dining room was filled with silence. Thomas watched as Caroline stole a glance toward the empty chair next to her. She caught herself and smiled. “Thomas, why don’t you say grace?”

  “Dad will be home in a minute, Mom. I know he will.”

  “I hope so.” Caroline caressed her belly. “I just don’t want your dinner to get cold.”

  Thomas nodded and bowed his head.

  Then he heard the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on gravel.

  Thomas smiled. “I told you.”

  “You’re right again. Go see if your Dad needs some help.”

  Thomas sprinted to the door.

  Outside, his father stood next to his car. He held his leather satchel and peered at the distant storm on the horizon.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Son.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Lightning flashed in the distance.

  “Probably, I just don’t like the look of that storm.”

  Daniel wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulder.

  Leaving his family to pursue his doctoral student through the door known on Earth as “Mairead Fhada,” he had endangered his own son and almost cost his wife her husband. He still felt the burden of that decision and was sometimes too protective of his family. Now home, he wanted to keep them safe. Safe. Wasn’t that a father’s responsibility to protect his family? If he couldn’t do that, what good was he as a father?

  Lightning lit up the clouds again some miles away.

  Thomas and Daniel counted together. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…”

  Boom! Thunder reverberated on eight.

  “It’s getting closer,” Thomas said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Should we be worried?”

  “No, I was doing more research at the center. That’s why I was late tonight.”

  The front door of the house opened.

  “Hey guys, dinner is getting cold,” Caroline called.

  “Sorry, dear,” Daniel said. “Here we come.”

  Daniel walked Thomas toward the door, his arm still over his son’s shoulder. “Bud, let’s keep this conversation to ourselves.” He winked. “Okay?”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  Daniel opened the door for his son. “If my calculations are correct, it doesn’t look like the door will open anytime soon. At least, not from this side.”

  The black dog drifted silently over the rooftop like a wraith. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds for a moment, silhouetting the beast against the dark sky. It slipped behind the chimney. It was sure there was no one on the street, but it could not be too careful. It had come too far, through the storm and mist, to this cursed land. Its master had entrusted him with this mission. It would not fail. If it did, it would pay an awful price.

  Six

  Daniel surveyed the clean dinner plate before him. “That was great honey,” he said wiping his mouth with his napkin. “What do you call it?”

  “Snintzel-straogenoff,” Caroline responded with a sly grin.

  “Bless you!” Thomas chuckled.

  “I did not sneeze!” Caroline laughed.

  Daniel stood. “Honey, I’ll help you wash up the dishes, and, Thomas, I think it’s time for you to get your homework done, right, buddy?”

  “Yes, dad.” Thomas took his dinner dishes and put them in the kitchen sink, then bounded up the stairs.

  Thomas sighed. He sat in his bedroom and surveyed the school books piled high on his desk. He mentally ran through his homework. Might as well tackle the hardest first, get it out of the way. Okay, he thought and pulled a heavy textbook from the stack, science report it was. Thomas reached for a pen from the cup on his desk, snagged one, and the whole lot spilled off the desk and scattered across the floor. He was off to a good start.

  Thomas knelt to pick up the pens and pencils. One had rolled under the edge of his bed. He stretched to get it and saw there, pushed back under his bed, a wooden trunk. Thomas looked from the trunk to his thick science book waiting on his desk. He had time.

  Thomas grabbed the trunk and pulled it out, fingered the latch, and they snapped open with a click. He lifted the lid, then paused and inhaled. He loved that smell. The smell of tanned leather. He reached into the trunk, and pushing back the wrapping, pulled out a rugged leather jacket. He held it for a moment as memories flooded into his conscience. It was his riding jacket, a precious gift given to him by a great friend, the mighty dragon rider, Deacon Stormcloud. He stood holding the jacket. A solemnness that bordered on the sacred filled him as he slipped the jacket on. He knew how treasured this dragon rider’s jacket was by Deacon. It had belonged to Deacon’s young son, Jack. The malevolent tyrant Darcon had killed Jack and his mother, Deacon’s wife.

  Thomas reached into the trunk again and retrieved a small object wrapped in felt. At his desk, he pushed his homework out of the way with his forearm and then lay the felt package there. Thomas switched on his reading lamp, adjusting it to illuminate the package. He unfolded the felt until it lay flat, revealing a beautiful golden pendant: a crafted medallion that featured an endless knot encircling a magnificent dragon with wings unfurled. The eye of the dragon was formed by a tiny precious stone that glinted ruby red as the lamplight struck it. The Dragon perched upon another endless knot, larger, more prominent. Three symmetrical smooth and intertwined leaves—unity in diversity. In this world, it often represented the symbol of the Holy Trinity: A deep mystery accepted by faith. As he explored the Celtic lands of this ancient country with his father, he had seen this symbol carved on many crosses and upon other significant archeological sites. Never did he imagine that this would be the pattern that would open the door to Mairead Fhada like some cosmic combination lock.

  Seven

  Above in the darkness the black dog slunk to the edge of the roof. It peered over the gutter where he could see light shining out from one of the bedroom windows. It would enter through the other window that was dark. Probably unoccupied. And then incomprehensibly he crawled over the gutter and onto the wall of the house and began down the wall, snout first. The dog’s clawed paws padded one after the other, descending like a spider on a thread after its unwary prey.

  The predator came to the darkened window and saw that they had left it open, but only by a fraction. It smiled, if you could call it that, through wicked fangs. This was no problem for the hunter. The dog put its snout to the tiny opening and dissolved into dark shadow, sliding through the crack one bit at a time until the whole of its being was inside the baby’s new nursery.

  In shadow form, it slid along the wooden floor like a serpent of smoke. Then it reached the center of the room and regenerated into its primary form. No longer canine. A dark shadow assassin —Humanoid in appearance, but smaller than a shadow warrior. Wiry, quick and deadly. While the shadow warriors depended upon their brute strength to overcome their enemies in battle, this assassin took pri
de in its ability to stalk its prey, arrive unseen, kill with deadly efficiency, and disappear without ever being detected.

  Eight

  Thomas could hear laughter wafting up the stairs from his Mom and Dad. It was one of his favorite sounds. He looked at the clock on his desk. He still had a little time before he really had to hit the books. He lifted the gold pendant by its chain and slipped it around his neck. He moved to his closet door and opened it to see the mirror there. He struck his best dragon rider pose. An idea formed. Grabbing his chair, he turned it around and plopped down and took the imaginary reins waiting for him there. He lifted his eyes, gazing into the middle distance and shouted, “Up, dragon!” And in his mind, he was there, soaring through the clouds, feeling the cold mist on his face, the rhythmic beating of his dragon’s wings. Deep down, he longed to be in N’albion again. Wait! Thomas needed something to complete his ensemble. A sword! He scanned the room. There, a wooden handle protruded from his closet. He reached over, grabbed “the hilt” and pulled out his well-used cricket bat. He swung it over his head. “Take that, and that! Go back to the one who spawned you,” Thomas exclaimed, vanquishing imaginary shadow warriors.

  Lightning outside his bedroom window brought Thomas back to reality, and he began his ritual counting. “1,2,3, 4…” The thunderclap resonated on five, surprising him. The storm was getting closer, but as his dad said, there was nothing to worry about.

  “Thomas,” Caroline said, poking her head in his room. “How’s the homework coming along?”

  Thomas tossed the cricket bat on his bed. “I’m on it, Mom.”

  “Uh huh.” She gave him one of her motherly looks, then closed his door and headed back down the stairs.

  The assassin listened, then took a slow step toward the door and as it placed its foot down, something emitted a long SQUEEEEK!

  Caroline stopped midway down the stairs. What was that? Turning with a huff, she pulled her way back up the banister.

  Morphed into shadow, the assassin watched as the woman stepped slowly into the nursery, unsure of herself. She came to see what the sound was.

  He cursed his own stupidity. It was a careless mistake born of overconfidence.

  The woman moved further in, then saw the noise making device. It was covered with fur and made to resemble a canine from this world. She scanned the room.

  It could kill her easily. One quick slash of its claw.

  The female picked up the furry object and smiled, then put it back on the shelf with the others overlooking the crib. She surveyed the room one more time, satisfied that nothing was out of place. She left, closing the door behind her. The shadow peeled itself off the wall, and transformed back into physical form. Time to go to work.

  Caroline stepped back into the kitchen to find Daniel finishing up with the dishes. Classical music played from the small stereo on the counter.

  “How’s he doing?” Daniel asked.

  “Just needed a little motherly nudge.”

  Caroline stilled, with a faraway look.

  “Everything okay, honey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on.” Daniel prodded lovingly. “I know that look. Let it out.”

  Caroline finally sighed, “It’s just that he was wearing that leather jacket.”

  Thunder rumbled to the distance.

  Daniel put the dish and sponge down on the counter.

  “Caroline.” Daniel placed his hands on her shoulders gazing into her eyes. “Everything is okay. Thomas is all right. He’s a strong boy. Correction, young man.”

  “I know, it just brought back all those memories… the thought of you and Thomas gone again.”

  “We’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Another clap of thunder shook the house.

  Daniel frowned at the rumbling, then reached over to the stereo and turned up the music, filling the kitchen with Brahms’s “Hungarian Dance.” He drew his wife into a hug and danced her around the kitchen. She resisted at first, then gave in filling the house with her laughter.

  Nine

  Thomas stared at the blinking cursor. Only one more paragraph to wrap up his science report, then a few more algebra problems, and he was done. The little blinking dash mocked him. No wonder they called it a cursor. Lightning flashed outside his window.

  He whispered, “1,2,3…” The thunderclap sounded.

  The storm was getting closer.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck. That feeling was back. He scanned his room, blinking to adjust his eyes after staring at the computer. Nothing out of place, at least not for a 13-year-old boy’s bedroom. Wait. That shadow in the corner. His mind tried to make sense of it. The angle was wrong. His lamp couldn’t cast a shadow there. He stood and took a hesitant step toward the corner. Then froze in fear as the shadow peeled off the wall and began its metamorphosis.

  Three things happened at once: Lightning flashed, the thunderclap exploded, and the assassin leaped!

  Thomas dodged, but not quick enough. The intruder slammed into him, knocking him into the headboard of his bed. He kicked in desperation, hitting the desk and knocked his lamp off, shattering it and plunging the room into darkness. The dark figure raised its hand and black claws sprung from the outstretched fingers. The assassin struck. Thomas rolled as he felt the searing pain of the claw slash through his shirt and into his side. Thomas sprung from the bed, pulling the covers with him, and flung them at his assailant. The bedding sailed up, billowed out, and then settled over the assassin.

  Thomas stood with his back to the window and winced in pain as he clutched his blood-soaked side. He needed a weapon, anything! He searched his room, then he saw it. On the foot of his bed where he dropped it. His cricket bat!

  The assassin stood, covered by the bed sheets like some horrible circus tent. It was toying with him. Thomas knew it was only a matter of time. He had to move. He sprung forward and grabbed the handle of the cricket bat. The predator gripped a claw full of bedcovers and pulled. The covers slid off puddling on the floor. The predator’s red eyes glinted in the darkness. It stalked forward, arms outstretched and claws extended, cutting off any escape. Then, lightning struck and filled the room with its searing white light. Thomas’s back to the window, shielded him from the full effect. But his enemy received it all. The flash overwhelmed its sensitive eyes that were trained to hunt in darkness. It shook its head, trying to clear the blindness.

  Thomas saw his moment, tightened his grip on the bat, stepped forward and swung with all his might. CRAACK! The bat struck under the assassin’s chin and the upward thrust lifted the predator off the ground. It arced back and crashed to the floor. Thomas leaped over the beast and strained for the door; his outstretched hand reached for the knob. He was almost there when he felt his ankle clutched in an iron grip and he fell. The assassin scrambled on top of him and raised its claw for the death strike. Thomas closed his eyes and accepted the inevitable.

  Suddenly, Thomas’s bedroom window exploded and Thomas and the predator were both showered in glass and wood debris. Thomas covered his eyes with his arm. His mind reeled for an answer. Lightning must have struck the house! Then he heard a roar and felt hot breath wash over him as something ripped the assassin, screaming from astride Thomas’s chest. Thomas felt one last tug as the assassin clawed for his neck and instead snagged the chain of the pendant. Thomas resisted as the predator writhed, clawing and spitting, refusing to let go of the chain.

  Finally, the chain gave way with a snap and Thomas fell backward and whacked his head on the edge of his desk. The pendant sailed end over end, hit the floor, bounced twice and finally came to rest under the edge of Thomas’s desk. Thomas lay crumpled on the floor. As the edges of his vision slowly closed in, he saw the unmistakable head of a huge reptilian beast with the twisting assassin gripped by its jaws. He would know that triangular shaped head anywhere. It was the great dragon, Thorn! And then everything went black.

  Ten

  Caroline pulled the earbuds fro
m her ears. What was that? She had felt more than heard something. The storm had brought with it more lightning and thunder. She was used to all the bumping and thumping in their ancient cottage during their frequent storms in this part of Britain. But this was different.

  The back door to the kitchen opened and Daniel stepped in, wet from the driving mist. He sat a large plastic storage tub on the floor of the kitchen.

  “This is the first of many. Thomas can help me tomorrow put up the Christmas lights.”

  He stripped off his jacket when the ceiling reverberated with a crash from upstairs.

  Caroline shot a worried look at her husband.

  “Thomas?” she called.

  Only thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Daniel rushed up the stairs. Caroline followed right on his heels, pulling herself up by the banister holding her round belly all the time.

  Daniel burst through Thomas’s door and froze. The bedroom was a wreck. He stepped forward with a crunch. Shards of glass covered the floor. A blast of icy wind hit him and he stared. Where Thomas’s bedroom window should have been there was now a jagged, gaping hole.

  Daniel rushed to the opening and peered into the night. Caroline grabbed her husband for support as rain whipped through the opening, drenching them both.

  “Thomas!” Caroline screamed into the storm.

  Daniel held his wife, scanning the dark horizon. Then he saw it. Just over the rise, a glow emanated from the stone circle, Mairead Fhada. Lightning flashed, and in that moment, he was sure he saw, silhouetted against the brightness, a flying dragon.

  Eleven