Memory of Dragons

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Memory of Dragons Page 22

by Michael G. Munz


  What if he was being a fool?

  Yet he needed to act! He shoved the worry to the back of his mind and instead kept an eye out for Maeron as he made his way down the platform.

  His Tube train pushed its way up beside him and came to a stop. Londoners already packed the cars in the front, so Austin trotted on toward the rear to find the second car from the end only moderately populated. He took a seat near the back. Almost immediately, a well-dressed blonde and her likely boyfriend settled into the seats facing him. Austin lifted his gaze to avoid theirs as they scorned the mud on his pants. The doors slid closed.

  As the car lurched to motion, a question for Boden sprang to mind. Once he restored Boden, how would the dragon stay hidden when he went to find Corinna again to remove Rhi’s memories? Could Boden change form? Become invisible? He needed more data. Austin wished he had a cell phone to pretend to talk on to avoid looking unstable. Then again, he was an otherwise rational person believing in magical invisibility and violations of the Law of Conservation of Mass. Maybe looking unstable wasn’t his biggest problem just then.

  A lighted map above showed the train’s progress along its route. The light for the previous station extinguished itself. The next had yet to glow. He folded his arms and covered his mouth with a fist in the hope of feigning contemplation. “Boden?”

  “I am here.”

  “Once you get a body, what then? We can’t let you be seen. If I have to leave you behind when I go to get Rhi, that’s more time Maeron can find me.”

  Austin doubted the man would believe the crystal was gone. They were still in London. He wouldn’t lose much time if he went back for Rhi now. But it would take time to convince her, and he might not succeed.

  “It would be most prudent to wait until I fully recall my abilities and can provide a better answer. Do not concern yourself yet. A path shall make itself clear to us.”

  Austin scowled under his fist. His abs tightened to keep his balance as the train angled around a corner and pitched him forward. “Let’s make a plan with what we have for now.” He dropped his fist, self-conscious, and muttered under his breath, “We’ll fine-tune it later.”

  Boden’s response was a few seconds coming. “Night travel would allow some degree of clandestine movement. I shall bear you back to London and wait somewhere dark until you bring her to me. Yet it is my belief that other options will then be available to us, to be revealed to both of us upon my release.”

  “Like what?”

  “You must teach me how I may speak of things when I do not yet know them myself. Your wisdom truly eclipses that of a dragon, young human!”

  Austin kept silent rather than be heard stammering out an explanation to no one in the middle of the Tube car. Regardless of Boden’s sarcasm, Austin wished he had that wisdom. He tried to put it out of his mind and stay alert for trouble.

  The Tube train traveled on. The blonde and her boyfriend departed at the next stop. Two men took their seats. Other travelers shuffled on and off, and Austin found himself standing on impulse before the train lurched forward once more. Gripping a pole, he stared out the closed doors at the tunnel walls that seemed to rush the other way. Austin’s stop loomed two stations ahead. With every rock of the car on its tracks, the box into which he had crammed his concerns cracked a little more.

  How would Corinna have reacted if he had brought up the plan? Skeptical, certainly. She trusted Boden less, but she didn’t know him like Austin did, either. Yet she trusted Austin. Maybe she wouldn’t trust him at all after this. That made one more reason he should have talked it over with her first.

  Staring at the floor, he shook his head. Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. He had chosen this path, and if things went as planned, there would be little for which to be forgiven.

  The thought hit him: what if the book had some clue to what might happen if Boden was released here? And yet Tragen had read it and still not known. But Tragen didn’t possess the crystal at the time, did he? Not for long, in any case, and without the insight into it that Austin now had. He had to assume such a connection was a unique experience. What if that insight was the key they lacked?

  Brakes squealed to announce the stop before Austin’s destination. His stomach churned on the likelihood that he had chosen poorly. Even if he couldn’t talk to Corinna about releasing Boden, he should have waited to act until they consulted the book. He had made his plan with flawed reasoning, and rushed on before Corinna got a chance to damage it. He had known it had been wrong.

  The car’s doors opened.

  Austin started toward them. He could get off here instead, turn around, and return to Corinna. He took only the one step before steeling himself.

  It was not wrong, he corrected, just not perfect. There wasn’t any “wrong” yet, because he couldn’t know if it was right until it was done. That was the risk he was taking to save Rhi, to save Rhyll. To save everyone. The odds were —

  Austin stepped back and glanced at an empty seat without taking it. The doors closed again. It was worth the risk. Next stop: a train toward Dinas Emrys.

  Except how could he be sure it was worth the risk if he didn’t know the odds? Austin groaned at his inability to stop analyzing. The book might tell him — might have told him. He knew he should trust his instincts.

  Or did he? His instincts were generally based on facts and data, or supportable theories at worst, when possible. He had ignored a major source of information, out of fear that — that what? Fear that it would be a waste of time? Corinna’s headache might be a sign of Rhi’s memories fading already. Time spent pouring through the book for answers that might not even be there could cost them the whole of those memories for the delay.

  Fear that it would prove him wrong?

  Austin froze. The thought cleared his mind like a pariah. He swallowed, afraid to continue thinking at all. In the absence of facts and hypotheses, Rhi’s face drifted to the forefront. It carried with it every moment, every touch, and every dream ever shared with him. The grief it brought hit the back of his knees like a hammer, and Austin needed to grip the pole to keep himself from dropping. She was a year gone and suddenly it was as if he had lost her only yesterday.

  He had nearly lost her again today.

  Dinas Emrys held a way to save her, possibly to restore her entirely if Boden was right. That was why he was going, whatever the other arguments for doing so, whatever the risks.

  And so what if it was a risk? She had sacrificed herself for Rhyll! Didn’t she deserve more than the short life she had lived? Didn’t she deserve more than to be forgotten? He could give her that! He would not lose her again!

  Austin straightened as the Tube car pulled into the next stop. He pushed through the opening doors with a determined stride. It took him to the head of the crowd, toward the escalators leading to the train station above. He would do this, regardless of doubt. He would save Rhi, he would stop Maeron, he would finish the work she had started, the work she had died — twice! — to protect!

  Austin climbed the escalator along its left side, striding past those who were standing. He reached the top where a foyer stretched out before him. Travelers bunched, bustling through turnstiles, tapping transit cards, moving everywhere.

  Austin set himself to plunge through them . . . but halted.

  In another few moments he shuffled to one side and sank onto an empty bench. His heart pounded. In his mind’s eye Rhi smiled at him, sadly, her caress brushing his cheek in a way he might only ever feel in the fading phantom of a memory.

  “What is it?”

  Austin swallowed, wrestling with his own response and suddenly aware of the sweat on his forehead and the base of his spine.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You have no choice. Do not tarry here.”

  Had Rhi struggled this way before using the pendant? Austin turned toward an empty corner beside the bench for the sake of discretion.

  “I can’t do this to Rhi,” he said. />
  “You make no sense. If you do not continue, Rhianon, all memory of her, shall perish! With all she fought for!”

  “How do I know that? How much did Rhi sacrifice to keep the crystal safe? And intact?” he hissed. “I can’t throw that away without a good reason.”

  “Human! I have given you a good reason!”

  Austin sprang to his feet and struck out toward the escalators he’d just ascended. “We didn’t talk it over with Corinna — that means we didn’t talk it over with Rhi. And if you can’t understand that we should have, regardless of what she might’ve said, maybe you can’t be trusted anyway.”

  He trotted down the escalator. He would catch the Tube back to the hotel, apologize, and — likely after Corinna tore him a new one — decide with her if they should go to Dinas Emrys. Maybe they could set out for the place before they were sure and research along the way, just to conserve time. Maybe she would have some other idea. Maybe he was making a mistake. Yet with every step, it felt more right.

  “If you do this, there will be no time to save Rhianon! Even if she agrees!”

  Austin felt a tug at his next stride, as if something held the muscles back. He pushed through it. “You can’t know that for sure.” He reached the bottom of the escalator and headed for the Tube platform.

  “Nor can you be so certain.”

  “I’d rather lose her than undo everything she sacrificed for.”

  “Would you? Truly? You imply that I am a liar, yet you deceive yourself far more!”

  “I don’t care!” he growled under his breath. “Be quiet!”

  “You do not wish to sacrifice Rhi, no matter the cost!”

  A rumbling grew from the darkened tunnel. The next Tube train approached. “What good is bringing her back if she’d hate me for it?”

  “She would not! Mine is the only course that will save Rhyll! Your spinelessness dooms us all!”

  “Bite me.”

  “I will do more than that, human.”

  The train pulled to a stop. The doors opened. If he got back to Corinna fast enough, there might still be time. The passengers disembarked. Austin steeled himself to board the moment they were done.

  His legs would not move.

  Austin tried again. It was not hesitation. They physically refused to obey. Completely against his will, his left leg took a step away from the Tube car.

  “You will ascend to the surface!”

  His hips wrenched around. His right leg followed the left.

  “You will carry me to Dinas Emrys!”

  Austin clutched at the side of a vending machine in a horrified effort to anchor himself.

  “You will free me of this prison, and you will cease your futile opposition!”

  People were staring and backing away from the screwball tourist clinging to a candy machine in a battle against his own body.

  “Help me!” he begged them.

  “I am through cajoling, through persuading! I am finished pretending to care what you think! I am a dragon! Your body is mine! You have lost!”

  A force pushed into him. Austin couldn’t resist it. His foot captured another step away from the Tube car. His heart pounded against the foreign control stealing his muscles — but his arms remained his. He yanked himself back. The car doors hung open, only ten feet away.

  “Stop it!”

  Boden didn’t answer. Austin’s legs convulsed as if they might tear themselves apart. He lost the ground he gained and then renewed the struggle, focusing instead on just his right leg, demanding his body board the car. Boden didn’t have all of him yet! Dinas Emrys was a trick, had always been a trick. He fought Boden’s control as if dangling from a cliff, sure that if he let go now, nothing he or Corinna or Rhi had done meant a damn.

  “I need to get back!” His right foot punched through some invisible barrier toward the Tube car. Boden snarled through his mind. The dragon’s will formed a gale through which Austin pushed. “Please!”

  His left leg moved, first back, then forward. He shoved closer to the car, lost ground, and then inched ahead again. The doors would shut in moments. Only seconds had passed, grown in his mind to hours as his muscles battled themselves. He could see Boden in his thoughts, dark and faceless, laughing and raging at once.

  Austin clenched his teeth against the image and tried to imagine Rhi on the Tube car to give him strength. She waited there, needing him to be as strong as she was, as brave as she was, needing him to reach her. He could do it. Whatever it took, he must do it!

  His mind yelled out for her. His body exploded back to his own control in a spasm of strides that launched him through the closing doors to a metal pole between the floor and ceiling. He clung to it, legs quivering, and caught his breath for a moment before stumbling into an empty seat. The dozen travelers in the car gave him plenty of space. Austin barely stifled a groan.

  “Sorry,” he gasped to no one in particular. “I’m okay.” A few passengers moved further away. “I’m okay.”

  Though his body seemed his own again, he could still feel Boden lurking in the distant corners of his senses. Did the dragon have only enough control for the single attempt? Did he merely wait for the doors to open, saving his strength for when there was again somewhere to force Austin to move? How many stops before he got back to Corinna? How many steps from there to the hotel? Austin clenched his fists. He would make it, whatever it took.

  Yet what options would remain to them when he did?

  When they pulled into the next station, the doors slid open. Boden remained quiet. Most passengers shuffled off. A few came on as Austin shut his eyes and let himself breathe easier. He would make it to Corinna, and they would figure out a way.

  When the doors closed again, someone sat beside him. The passenger’s hand, a man’s, fell across Austin’s own. Austin opened his eyes.

  Maeron gazed back at him.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Maeron’s smile locked onto Austin. It was cold. Clinical. With his free hand, he adjusted the crease at the knees of his slacks and then brushed a bit of lint from his gray sport coat. The tiny silver icicle still hung around his neck, its glint contrasting against his dark red button-down shirt.

  The silence stretched out between them as, to his horror, Austin found he could only watch. He could envision himself standing up, running for the door to the next car, anything — to no avail. At first, he thought Boden had taken control again, but, amid the panic, he could sense this was something different.

  “Hello, Mister Blanchard. You appear to have had a rough day or two.” Maeron pointed to Austin’s muddied jeans with discreet amusement. “This world has a saying that I’ve found appealing: ‘Clothes make the man.’ You might give it some consideration.”

  Austin tried to respond, unsure what he would say and failing to recall how to open his mouth. Nausea rolled his stomach. His hand tingled where Maeron touched it. It was as if the man had somehow trapped Austin in his own mind.

  “Now,” Maeron said. “First thing’s first.”

  He plucked the daypack from Austin like an overripe grape, then examined the contents. The soft glow of the crystal within bathed Maeron’s face and sank Austin’s heart. He had lost it. It was all his fault! Now Maeron would kill him and take the crystal. Austin could only sit frozen while Tube passengers ignored his guilt and panic, oblivious to the real madman they shared the car with.

  Apparently satisfied, Maeron closed the pack and looped his free arm through the straps. “Thank you for this, Mister Blanchard, however unintentional it may be. I have questions, of course, but let’s gain a little privacy.”

  He made a subtle motion as his lips moved on a complicated whisper. The noise of the other passengers and the clatter of the car along the tracks vanished. For a moment, all Austin could hear only the sound of his breathing.

  “There now,” Maeron said. “Tell me where your friend is.”

  At a nod from Maeron, Austin found he could now work his jaw enough to speak. The ounc
e of freedom sparked an explosive instinct to steal back the pack and run, yet everything from his neck down remained paralyzed. He could not even look down to rage at his impotent body.

  “There’s very little point in trying to move,” Maeron told him. “In lay terms, you’ve literally forgotten how. The truth is, well, somewhat more complex. A seed planted during our intimate moment in Conwy, now harvested. I wouldn’t worry. It isn’t permanent.” After a moment’s cheerful consideration he added, “Probably.”

  Panic suffocated him; each breath was a shallow struggle under the magic’s effects. Maeron would finish the brutality he had begun on the grass in Conwy! Austin jerked his jaw from side to side, struggling to show anyone else in the car that he needed help.

  “Oh, Mister Blanchard, please don’t try to get the other passengers’ attention. That mother and her toddler by the doors, for example. There’s no need for them to come to harm.”

  Austin froze again. His mind raced until he finally stammered, “Magic weakens it! The dragon — it’ll get out if you don’t stop.”

  “Hmm. Does that include the magic to let you move again?”

  “The bonds can’t get much weaker,” Austin struggled to say.

  “A calculated risk. I do what I must.”

  “Then you do care.”

  It calmed Austin, slightly, despite his awareness that he was clutching at straws. Maybe Maeron wouldn’t burn his mind again. Maybe he would just take the crystal and go. They were still on the Tube. Too public for a murder, he hoped, regardless of Maeron’s threats.

  “You should understand, Mister Blanchard, that no matter what Corinna may think, I’ve no desire to release the dragon in your world.” He leaned closer with what seemed genuine interest. “Does she hold Rhianon’s memories?”

  “Why?”

  Maeron shrugged. “Confirming the most likely theory, for one. I didn’t think Rhianon had the skill, but now here we are, aren’t we? Now I ask again: where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Maeron’s eyes narrowed. “Mister Blanchard.”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you!” It was true; he couldn’t be certain she was still at the hotel. If Maeron had any way to sense truth, he hoped that would be enough to satisfy him. “I don’t want you doing that thing in my mind again.”

 

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