Or maybe he really had hallucinated the entire conversation somehow. Yet the crystal still glowed. Scratches the thin man had given him remained.
Austin scribbled possible explanations across the chalkboard as the bus began its journey back along seaside cliffs and fields. When it pulled into the station in Swansea more than an hour later, he was no closer to any answers. Questions for Boden piled atop each other, clamoring for attention should the spirit speak again.
Austin awaited the moment with increasing anxiety. If he never spoke again, how could Austin be sure the spirit had spoken in the first place? It would call into question his own sanity, to say nothing of the pain of a source of answers about Rhi slipping through his fingers. Austin couldn’t be sure which was worse.
A chorus of Irish fiddles burst from Corinna’s mobile phone. She let it go almost to voice mail before answering it.
“And where the bloody hell are you?”
She winced. “Hi, Sara. Bit of an emergency I had to take care of. Can you cover things for me there?”
“Aye, but Max is pitching a fit you didn’t call. Is everything alright?”
“Hard to answer that one. Look, no worries, I just need to handle something.”
“You’re not skiving off work to play a gig again, are you?” Sara’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “You have to get someone to cover when you do that!”
“No, nothing like that.”
“You sound out of breath. Are you running or — ” Sara laughed. “Corinna, have I caught you in a bit of fun?”
“Sara, I can’t talk now. Look, tell Max it’s got to do with the fainting spell yesterday. And that I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? To Max? Corinna, are you feeling alright?”
“Bye, Sara.”
She hung up before Sara could say more. Hasty strides took Corinna over the final distance along the worm’s back to kneel beside the two rocks. She reached inside. Rapid groping in the darkness confirmed her fears.
The box was gone.
“This pendant of Rhianon you mentioned: what happened to it?”
The spirit’s voice lifted a weight from Austin. “You’re back!”
“Quite obviously. I will not leave, but communication is difficult. We are now moving? Swiftly?”
“On a train out of Swansea. I made it through the night just fine. No sign of anyone following.”
“Swansea is far from where you found me?”
“Ninety minutes’ drive at least.”
“Then we were lucky. The pendant?”
Austin’s grin at Boden’s return faded as he recalled the loss. “Stolen, two days ago.” Conscious of getting caught appearing to talk to himself, he further faced the window. “I don’t know where it is now. What was it?”
“Merely a keepsake, I suspect, coincidentally used to mark my location should she be able to return and continue her work to free me.”
“What can you tell me about her? Who she was before I met her, I mean.”
“Rhianon was . . . kind. Intelligent. Extremely helpful. I can recall her doing much on my behalf, though within this prison the specifics are lost to me. I can only tell you that she risked much, alone as you are now, and though her efforts have yet to come to fruition, I am deeply grateful for her dream of my freedom, and her willingness to make the greatest sacrifice to move that dream closer to reality.”
“That sounds like Rhi.”
“Then it would seem that she retained her personality regardless of her memory loss.”
“Do you remember anything more about where either of you came from, or who was trying to stop her?”
“My imprisonment continues to block things. Despite my newfound loquaciousness, memories do not return to me as swiftly as hoped.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. How Rhi was planning to free you?”
“You wish to bring to fruition what she began?”
Austin’s stomach tightened and he wondered anew what he was getting himself into. Yet whatever it was, wasn’t he already in it? Someone attacked him, was likely still after him — was the break-in at his apartment a part of this? — and if Rhi, lost memory or no, had sacrificed herself to begin this journey, didn’t he owe it to her to finish it? And how much more would Boden be able to tell him of Rhi once he was free?
“What would I need to do?” he tried.
“I require a new body.”
Austin blinked. “How?”
“Via less sinister means than your tone would indicate. A corpse will suffice, even bones, provided it is similar to my original form. A small challenge, yet hardly insurmountable.”
“You mean, same height, build, and so forth?”
Boden’s chuckle rolled through his mind. “You assume I am human.”
Both curious and apprehensive about the answer, Austin asked the expected question. “What are you?”
“You would call me a dragon,” came the reply, not without pride.
“You’re kidding.”
“This, too, you doubt, after all you have seen thus far.”
Austin supposed that was fair. “How long ago did you — ”
“I have stated my memory failures. I will not continue to repeat myself!”
“Sorry.”
“I suggest these questions motivate you to restore me, upon which time my memory shall fully return and I will tell all I can. In the meantime, your knowledge,” the spirit’s voice paused in Austin’s mind with a plain yet inaudible sigh, “eclipses my own. Where might we find a dragon’s bones?”
“Find a dragon’s bones. Just like that? I didn’t even know dragons existed, how in the world should I know where one’s buried?”
“Apply yourself to the problem! You know what a dragon is, ergo you have familiarity, if not the belief until now.”
“What about a dinosaur?”
“Explain the term.”
Really, explain a dinosaur? “Big lizards. Or lizard-like, anyway. They went extinct millions of years ago, but there are fossilized bones everywhere. I’d always thought dinosaur bones inspired the myth of dragons.”
“How big?”
“Seventy-five, one hundred feet? I’d need to check to be sure.”
“A fearsome size.”
“I don’t know about fearsome. The largest were plant-eaters.”
“Plant eaters. Hrum. They could fly, of course?”
“Some could. Wings are a requirement?” Austin suddenly felt like a salesman. Did Boden want the deluxe sport package? Rust coating?
“Quite.”
“Then you’re looking at something smaller.”
“Smaller is most inadequate.”
“You might not have a choice. It’s better than being trapped in a crystal, isn’t it?”
“It is no matter of choice. I cannot occupy just any creature. It must be able to contain me entirely. A lake will not fit into a single glass. These dinosaurs, they were intelligent?”
“I think the consensus is their brains were the size of a walnut.”
“Then you must find a true dragon.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“I do not pretend it shall be easy, or Rhianon would surely have accomplished it herself. You said that, even after her memory was gone, she returned to the place she hid me. Clearly she sensed things unfinished that she longed to complete, though she no longer recalled what. You cannot give up on this.”
“I don’t know where to find dragon bones!” he hissed, struggling to keep his voice low.
“This is your world! You must solve that yourself! Or are you a fool?”
Austin ignored the question, staring out the window. Had Rhi begun a similar search before whoever pursued her — and now him — caught up to her and stole her memory? The irony struck him that if she had succeeded, he would have likely never met her. Rhi had sacrificed herself to save Boden and, however unintentionally, meet him.
Geez, was he seriously pondering magic and dragons like there was
no doubt they existed? The werespider and Boden felt real enough, and both seemed entwined with Rhi’s lost past.
“There are legends of dragons,” Austin answered at last. “Since you exist, it could follow that a few legends might have some truth to them. I’ll research those. That might give us some leads.”
“Excellent. So we have a beginning.”
At least it was a hope. If he actually could find a body for Boden, he would have an ally against whatever was coming after him. It seemed his best shot, both for himself and for Rhi. Austin swallowed.
This couldn’t be happening, could it?
Something else occurred to him. “So what if what happened to Rhi happens to me?”
“Do not let it.”
“Oh, helpful. Can you do anything to help if another one of those, er, things shows up?”
“I can advise you to flee. Unless you can create another gomlen?”
The answer leapt to mind so fast, Austin couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “I can’t, but I know who likely can.” He told of his experience with Fefferman. “If it’s magic, wouldn’t he be one to know where I could find a dragon?”
Again, Boden took so long in answering that Austin suspected he had faded again. “No. Trust no one with this. This Fefferman may not be connected with those who seek to stop you, but if they learn how you killed the werespider, they may know of him already and be watching.”
“I could be sneaky about it. If I try to do this alone — ”
“You are not alone, you have the wisdom of a dragon. Trust no one else, or we shall both regret it.”
Austin gritted his teeth and nodded. It was his turn to go silent.
EIGHT
The town of Conwy was so small that Austin needed to tell the conductor his destination so the train would bother to stop at the station, which itself was little more than two exposed platforms and a sign.
According to his pre-trip research, English garrisons once kept watch over the then-subjugated northern Welsh countryside from Conwy Castle, the ruins of which stood in the corner of town along the neighboring river. The stone wall encircling both the castle and the original settlement still remained, only slightly eclipsed by the modern town’s expansion.
Though Austin’s original plans to visit there had arisen from historic curiosity — Rhi had, to his knowledge, never been there — momentum alone brought him now. It gave him a harbor of stability, if only because he had already planned to see it.
Perched outside the wall on a hill overlooking the castle, Austin’s hotel was small but helpful. Though it lacked Internet access, the proprietor happily pointed him to a place in town. A short while later found him walking down the town’s High Street with Boden’s crystal inside the new green daypack he had picked up along the way. He wandered cobblestone roads lined with ancient wall remnants and modern shops alike, searching for his destination amid distracting thoughts.
Sifting through legends shouldn’t be too difficult. The Internet held enough of those to last a lifetime, but he calculated the more established legends most likely to contain kernels of truth. Stripping away the fabrications grown from those kernels over the years posed a challenge, of course. Searching for a potential lead within the isle of Britain itself, while helping to focus the search, would limit his prospects.
Yet even if he discovered something, he had no way to verify it without traveling there personally, an aspect he might have found more intriguing were unknown forces not pursuing him.
Then there was the untested wisdom of restoring a dragon to bodily form at all. That Rhi deemed it a good idea went a long way toward persuading him, but he knew nothing about dragons — at least not as real creatures. In the myth of dragons he was no expert either, but surely there were enough variations along the spectrum as to yield poor guidance. Some dragon tales he knew spoke of purely evil beasts embodying destruction; others of benevolent, wise, and noble creatures.
Yet they were only tales; Boden truly existed.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, that still boggled him. Did that mean there were other dragons living in the world? Boden could not recall the answer to that question. If such was the case, those dragons were capable of existing in discreet — and, more importantly, non-destructive — fashion.
Austin wished it was as simple as a physics problem, but math was of no use to him here. Arguments for and against restoring Boden slipped off his chalkboard soon after he put them up. Lacking answers, it simply came down to trusting Rhi.
Well, he amended, trusting Rhi and his compulsion to know what Boden would recall once restored — not to mention the benefit of having a re-embodied dragon ally against whoever opposed him. Had those sinister forces, unsatisfied with stealing her memories, somehow arranged the car accident that took her life? Before, nothing of the accident had struck him as suspicious. In the light of the past twenty-four hours, it dogged him like a troublesome itch: another question on an ever-increasing list of those for which he craved an answer.
“Internet here!” The sign, printed in simple letters on a white piece of paper, announced its message in the corner of a bakery café window. An inquiry and a two-pound coin bought him a seat at the lone terminal in the back of the quaint shop. Too preoccupied to order any food, Austin sat down amid the wood-paneled décor and the scent of cinnamon rolls to begin his search.
Though stories of dragons abounded, real-world geographical details were few and far between. From what he could tell, one could divide dragons into European and Asian categories. He crossed the latter off the chalkboard almost immediately; while the Asian dragons tended to be comfortingly benevolent, he would find none in Britain.
European tales were frustratingly non-specific with their locations. Not until he made his way to Arthurian legend did he find anything encouraging. In hindsight, he supposed he ought to have begun there; the Welsh flag itself was of a red dragon on a green and white field.
Afternoon marched toward evening. Austin was sifting through the tale of two dragons fighting beneath a place called Dinas Emrys when the bakery door opened. The entering figure caught his eye, and recognition struck in an instant.
Austin shot to his feet, rushing toward the woman before he could think what to do next. Shoulder-length, dark red curls surrounded the face burned into his memory: the thief who took Rhi’s pendant!
“Where is it?” he demanded.
To Austin’s surprise, the thief did not run. “I don’t have it. I need to talk to you.”
“You sold it? Where is it? Do you know what you took from me?” He was vaguely aware of the other patrons in the bakery staring.
“I’m sorry, I really am, but — look, let’s just have a chat, please?” She touched his arm, pressing him toward his seat.
Austin grabbed her wrist. She had taken his itinerary. Had she followed him here? Why?
“Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops on you right now.”
“Listen, I fancy making a scene as much as anyone, but this isn’t the time. You found something at Worm’s Head, didn’t you?”
Austin let go, thinking too late to hide his surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“A crystal, wrapped in gold, hidden in a box between two stones.” Her green eyes fixed him with an earnest stare that struck him as familiar. “The box had a rune carved into it, like a Y overlaid on a flattened circle.”
Boden spoke in an instant. “Do not trust her, Austin.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
The question prompted a mirthless chuckle. “Most people call me Corinna. Let’s sit down, although we shouldn’t stay long.”
Austin did as she asked, remembering the thin man and not taking his eyes off her.
“How did you get that pendant?” she asked.
“The one you stole?”
“Look — Hey, what is your name, anyway?”
“I don’t think you need to know that just yet,” said Austin.
“You k
new someone once; maybe someone named Rhianon? Dark hair, blue eyes? She probably had some sort of memory loss?”
Austin’s heart caught in his chest.
“Run,” Boden urged. “Now.”
How could she know about that? The odds of stumbling onto a thief who knew Rhi were impossibly remote. Had she looked her up? Was she trying another scam? Beset by both Boden and the thief, too paralyzed with questions for each, all he managed was, “What?”
“She is the enemy, Austin!”
“Did she tell you to go to Worm’s Head?” Corinna pressed.
“How do you know?” It was directed at Boden.
“There is no time! Take the crystal and run, now!”
He teetered on the edge of indecision, and then scooped up his pack and bolted for the door.
Austin dashed through a narrow alley, spun left to sprint down the sidewalk of a larger street, and then cut across into a second alley. He vaulted a pile of trash bags and raced to the alley’s other end, stopping only then to look back. The woman, the thief — the enemy, if Boden was right — was nowhere to be seen.
“Do not tarry!”
“You’re sure?” He glanced both ways down the street onto which the alley emptied. Nothing seemed amiss.
“This is not the place for such discussions. Keep moving!”
After another long, fruitless watch down the way he had come, Austin jogged off again. The town wall lay beyond next street. He made for the high ground atop one of the circular watchtowers that cropped up at long intervals along its length.
The woman — Corinna, she had called herself — behaved differently from the thin man. Was she his master? A fellow servant? Her disparate disposition had him doubting that she, too, concealed some hideous form.
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