Heart of the Dragon King

by J Boothby

  “Why?” Zara says. “Maybe I like waking up naked and bloody and lost. Wouldn’t you?”

  Devon snorts. “That probably depends on who I’m waking up with.” He studies her for a minute. “I can’t promise it, but I think the suit should adapt with you when you change.”

  “Really?” Zara looks startled. “That would be amazing.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t need to test it.” Devon turns and heads into the booth. He sits down where Dr. Echols sat. Zara moves and stands behind him.

  Devon studies the display of dials. “You ready?”

  I give him a thumbs up.

  I move over to where the stretcher lies, fallen over onto the floor. All of the aether boxes are still in a circle around it. “Go ahead,” I say.

  He flips some switches.

  The boxes explode with light, and aether slams into the room.

  Violet fire bursts from my hands. It spreads fast up my arms, across my chest, down my torso in spirals.

  “Too much?” Devon asks over the mic.

  I shake my head. “It’s all right,” I say, breathing deeply. “I’ve got it, I think. I’ll need more, though.”

  “That can happen,” he says. “Hold on.”

  He twists some dials. I definitely get what I asked for.

  The aether blasts at me, and I burn, bright and hot. I see Devon and Zara step back from the controls, back against the wall in that room.

  I’m wrapped in fire, a tiny sun.

  I feel myself rising up into the air.

  I close my eyes and reach out.

  This time, there’s no single part of the room that feels thin. All of it does.

  And beyond that skin of this reality, I can sense others.

  One of them is a lot closer, but there are more spaces out there—at least four or five close by, and a lot more farther away.

  They spin, like planets in orbit, with the smaller ones revolving around a much larger one.

  Tendrils of aether tie them all together, like blood vessels running between organs. More lines tie them to where we are, to Earth.

  I reach out along the aether to the closest space.

  I push hard.

  There’s a blast of air and light in the room, and when I open my eyes I can see the incursion, shining in the far corner of the room.

  Through it is a dark night and the two moons of the Elhyra.

  “Go,” I say. “Go now!”

  36

  Devon and Zara run from the booth to the incursion.

  Devon takes his gun in his hands and dives through first, and Zara looks back at me.

  I give her a thumbs-up, and she steps through too.

  I drift slowly across the floor, still buoyed up by the aether. I reach out with small tendrils of it to push the boxes along with me, right up to the edge of the incursion.

  I dive through it like I’m jumping into a pool. I tumble to the ground on the other side. I can feel the immediate temperature shift.

  The Elhyra is cold, windy. It’s a grassy field, only the grass is ochre and deep violet in color. Overhead, the sky is low and cloudy and full of static. Quick sparks of lightning jump from cloud to cloud.

  The aether falls away from me.

  The incursion slams shut.

  “What was your plan to get home?” Devon asks. “I’m assuming you have one…”

  “You’re asking me that now? We find Sam,” I say. “And we figure it out.”

  “That’s not exactly a plan,” he says. “That’s more of a plan to get a plan.”

  “I work with what I’ve got,” I say.

  I stand up and look around. We’re on a rise of land that slopes down into a large hollow, probably at least a mile across. On the far side of it is a forest. Behind the grove, silhouetted against the static-filled sky, is a silver castle that sits on top of another hill.

  But between us and the forest are bodies.

  There are thousands of them, maimed and twisted. There are figures in armor, shattered and burned. There are soldiers in cloaks, too, like I saw come through the incursion into the lab, with long knives still clutched in their pale, unmoving hands.

  Their dark eyes are empty—they stare up at nothing.

  Most of them are human.

  “That’s what they’re taking people for,” I say. “Their armies.”

  Zara frowns. “Not your uncle, I hope.”

  “Uncle?” Devon says.

  “Long story,” I say. “And I sure hope not.”

  “If you were hoping to get help from any of these people,” Devon says, “that’s going to be a little challenging.”

  I shake my head. It looks like this was a very-recent battle. There are smoking blast craters, places where trenches have been dug but have then collapsed. Off to one side is the body of some enormous creature burning. It looks like it’s mostly eyes and mouths and tentacles like someone melted a whole lot of orrex together and just kept the bad parts.

  “A hydra,” Devon says. “We’ve seen a few of those come through on our side too.”

  The humans are wearing smaug-styled armor, scaled down to their size. Not that it did them any good. There are a few grogans, too.

  I wonder if any of these people were once someone I knew.

  Did my friends Claire and Alex die someplace like this? I can’t think about that now.

  It smells awful. A flock of black birds drifts in and settles across the bodies.

  “Nice place,” Zara says.

  “This is horrible,” I say.

  “This is a war,” Devon says. “We should be careful—we don’t know who was fighting or who won. There could be soldiers still around.”

  I agree. He’s obviously right. “We should move away from here, too, in case they’re watching for any incursions.”

  “If there’s anyone alive here at all?” Zara says.

  “Maybe we watch the spot, and see if anyone shows up,” Devon says.

  “If there’s anyone here, they’ll be in the castle,” I say. “Let’s head that way.”

  We work our way around the edge of the hollow, toward the woods. There are bodies up here, too—smaug men and women in armor who look like they were killed with a combination of arrows and bullet fire.

  I check the faces of every one we pass. I don’t recognize anyone. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

  “This was a massacre,” Zara says.

  I don’t have anything to say. She’s right.

  We reach the woods after an hour of walking. The trees here are like skeletal hands—pale gray bark, knobby limbs like swollen finger bones. They move eerily in the cold wind, knocking against each other in a strange rhythm.

  “I’m not seeing any trails through,” Devon says.

  “We’ll have to make our own.” I head in.

  Zara’s behind me, and Devon brings up the rear.

  I’m not ten steps into the trees when a tremendous explosion sends me sprawling.

  The explosion stretches into an earthquake, and it shakes the whole forest around us. Trees whip back and forth, nearly bending to the ground, and the land rises and falls sharply. Devon and Zara are thrown off their feet too. I grab a tree and hold on.

  Overhead, the sky is on fire. Bolts of lightning jump between the clouds, flashing violet and red and black.

  A sizable tree collapses, narrowly missing Devon.

  The shaking probably only goes on for a minute, but it’s so much more intense than the earlier quake it feels like an hour.

  Then the ground settles down. The sky grows darker again, though there is still more lightning leaping around between the clouds than when we arrived.

  “What did you do?” Devon says, looking at me.

  “That wasn’t me,” I say. “And it wasn't good.”

  “Coincidence or omen? I think we have our answer.”

  “Maybe we can get more answers at the castle?” Zara says.

  “If there’s any castle left,” says Devon, skeptical
ly.

  We push on. The forest is dense, the trees packed in close. The chill of the wind that whips through the branches pushes hard in our faces.

  The woods end abruptly. We come to an open field that rises up from the woods and toward the castle we’d seen, which, fortunately, is still there. It’s an elegant building that bursts up from the ground in seven towers. There’s a larger central tower, and then six that circle it, and they all stretch up towards the dismal sky in a way that still feels optimistic, despite the surroundings.

  Modern-looking windows with lots of glass dot the walls, and thin looking bridges arch between the towers.

  At least one of the bridges has collapsed, and some of the windows look broken too.

  But the rest of the building looks undamaged.

  I half expect some sort of moat or drawbridge—I mean, who builds a castle without a moat? But there’s just a circular drive in front of a large gate, and a cobblestone road that leads off away from it that parallels the woods.

  The gate is closed. Two tall, heavily-armored smaug stand guard, one on either side of it.

  We’re quite a way from them, and still under cover of the forest—I doubt they see us yet, or if they do, they don’t react.

  “What now?” Zara says.

  “Now we say hello,” I say.

  “You sure it’s the right castle?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m definitely not.”

  But I’ve been here before, I’m sure of it. I close my eyes and try and remember.

  I’m holding someone’s hand. The sky is pale violet, with lots of stars.

  Red flags are flying from the castle’s towers, flapping in a warm breeze, and I smell flowers.

  Someone is speaking to me in some language that isn’t English. It’s a smaug, and her eyes each have a different color. One of them is violet, and one of them is blue.

  I understand her.

  I understand her perfectly.

  I step out from the trees and wave an arm up at the guards.

  “Hey,” I call. “Down here. We’re here to see the Sparrow?”

  “Wait,” says Devon over the mic. “We’re what?”

  37

  I’m tackled so fast I can’t catch my breath to say anything else.

  Cloaked smaug rise up out of the ground almost at my feet and grab me. They push me to the ground, face-first, and pin me there. They take my knife and they tie my hands behind my back.

  I hear struggles from behind me, too. Devon curses.

  “You guys ok?” I whisper into the mic.

  “We’re both down,” says Zara.

  “But ok,” Devon says. “For now. “

  “We’re friendly,” I say louder, to the smaug. “We’re looking for the Sparrow?”

  But either they’re not listening, they don’t understand me, or they don’t care.

  “What do you mean, the Sparrow?” Devon says.

  “Trust me,” I say, as I’m picked up roughly. A long knife is held to my throat.

  “We have a choice?”

  Devon and Zara are dragged up next to me.

  We’re held there in a line. At the castle, the gate goes up and another tall smaug walks down to us.

  She’s tall, her hair is dark and streaked with gray. Her armor glistens black and silver in the lightning.

  There’s a knife at her belt that matches mine.

  Her eyes range over Zara and Devon and then come to rest on me.

  Then she smiles.

  Smaug still make me nervous when they smile.

  But it’s Xyr.

  “Kylie Walker,” she says. “We were not expecting you.” She gestures the way I saw my uncle gesture—a starburst motion with her hand at her chest level, in my direction. Then she nods to the smaug holding the knife. He takes it away from my neck.

  “You’ve come at a dark day, at a dangerous time.”

  “Xyr,” I’d make that starburst gesture, but my hands are still tied so I nod instead. “We’re looking for someone. A boy’s been taken, and we believe he’s been brought here, to the Elhyra. To the Narrow King.”

  “They are with you?” She gestures at Devon and Zara.

  “They’re my friends.”

  “As you say.” She nods, and we’re all released. “Come,” she says. “We should speak with your uncle.”

  “He’s here?”

  She nods. “We hold Ehrlor and Xysos still, despite the Narrow King’s new armies.”

  I’m sure I look confused. “I’m guessing that’s a good thing?”

  “Come,” she says. “Your uncle will be better able to explain it to you.”

  We head up toward the castle, Xyr in the lead, and the other smaug behind us.

  I notice they have not taken their hands off their weapons.

  “Your uncle is in the Elhyra?” Devon whispers into the mic.

  “Apparently he’s the Sparrow.”

  “Holy shit,” Devon says. “What else are you not telling me?”

  “Broccoli,” I say. “Can’t stand the stuff.”

  He sighs, audibly.

  We’re through the gate and down a long and narrow corridor that’s lined with small slits for arrows or guns, and then out into a large courtyard. The castle is beautiful from the inside, even though I’m sure it’s seen better days. Bright mosaics made with tiny glass tiles line the walls of the courtyard, depicting elegant smaug dancing, feasting, performing. In one, women sit together among fruit trees, holding babies, while other children play at their feet. In another, two smaug face off with staves—whether in a battle or just a contest I can’t tell.

  “You were here as a child,” Xyr says. “Before the Sundering. Do you remember?”

  I shake my head. “Yes, but not much. There were red flags flying?”

  She nods. “Red is the color of Xysos. You were here for a ceremony. Perhaps it will come back to you. It was once quite beautiful.”

  “It’s beautiful now,” I say.

  “Now it is tragic,” she says. “Come. Uriah is within.”

  We head towards the large tower as another earthquake strikes.

  The ground rises up and drops, sharply, and all of us except Xyr are thrown off of our feet. I hear glass shatter and one of the bridges linking the towers above breaks loose and slams down into the courtyard about ten feet from where we’re all lying, pitching stone and metal into the air. One of the smaug guards is hit in the shoulder with a flying piece of the stone. Another is badly cut across her cheek.

  “There is no time to lose,” Xyr says, helping us up. “Follow me now.”

  She leads us inside the largest tower and up a grand stairway. The mosaics continue here as well, though I don’t really have any time to appreciate them. We pass under a large arch and into a grand room, and I see my uncle talking animatedly with two other smaug, a man and a woman. The man is Xyr’s son, Xandro. The woman I don’t recognize, but she’s tall and strong. They’re all wearing armor, and standing around a table that has some sort of map on it, along with some bottles of wine, and some glasses.

  They all turn as we enter. My uncle looks haggard, sweaty, and a little afraid.

  I feel that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Kylie,” my uncle says, urgently. “Tell me you still have the key.”

  I shake my head. “It’s gone. That’s why were here.”

  My uncle curses, and turns to the people behind him. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  He turns back to me with hollow eyes. “Why we’re all about to die,” he says, simply.

  38

  “Hi, Kylie,” I say. “I’ve missed you so, so much. It’s wonderful to see you.”

  My uncle shakes his head and comes over to hug me. “I have missed you,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s just a terrible time.”

  It’s good to get a hug from him, even if he’s wrapped up in metal. I hug him back.

  “These are my friends,” I say. “We’re lo
oking for a boy, who we think was brought to the Narrow King.”

  “A boy?” He shakes hands with Zara and Devon.

  “He’s a harbinger too,” I say. “Someone took him and the key, and I think they went through the mirror in the basement.”

  He frowns and nods grimly. “So he has it, then.”

  “What’s ‘it’?”

  He looks worried. “Did you go through the mirror?”

  I nod. “When I was in the Whisperlands with Xyr, it was how I got back home. We were chased by the orrex, and I fell through a different mirror that came out near the dome.”

  “I thought you had been eaten,” Xyr says. “I am pleased that you were not.”

  “I thought they got you too,” I say.

  “I am very old and very hard to kill,” Xyr says, grinning. Lightning from outside reflects off her teeth. She puts her hand on the hilt of her knife. “It will take more than an orrex to end me.”

  “Is that—” I pause for a second. Do I want to know the answer to the question I’m about to ask? I decide I do. “Is that mom’s body in there?”

  My uncle looks away. “It is.”

  “So, my parents didn’t actually die in a car crash.”

  “No,” he says. He looks back. “I lied to you about that.”

  “What else have you lied to me about?”

  “Nothing,” he says. “Everything. Who took the key? And the boy?”

  “His name is Max Bennet. I thought he was a friend, but I was wrong.”

  “Erik’s kid?” He curses again. “How did—? Never mind. That explains a lot.”

  “I’m glad you understand it,” I say. “Maybe sometime you’ll want to enlighten the rest of us?”

  Ouch, Zara whispers into the mic.

  The other tall smaug woman comes up next to my uncle and places a hand on his shoulder. “You were right, Uriah,” she says. “She is a lot like you.”

  She has long, silver hair that spills to her shoulders and bright violet eyes that are flecked with gold. There’s a lightness to her expression I haven’t seen from any of the other smaug—she’s trying to suppress a grin but not quite succeeding. She holds out a hand to me.

  “I’m Elohan,” she says. “Something else he probably hasn’t told you about.”