Blood of the Dragon

by Jay D Pearson

  Just as his eyes closed, she sat down next to him.

  “It is done, husband. I have told Oberon exactly where I will cross into Tir-nam-beo. I will take two of my young cousins with me as guards.”

  Before he could respond, however, the room tilted. The fire flared and glasses fell, shattering. The bed slid and the earth seemed to groan.

  “Tigano!” screamed Àibell, and she grabbed his hands. A sudden chill flooded the room. The fire hissed as if a bucket of water had been dumped on it, the flames sputtering then going dark. Floating motes of fairy dust provided dim, eerie light. He tried to draw her close, but the room shifted again and something grabbed him around the waist.

  “Àibell!” he shouted, struggling to clench her hands. Their eyes locked for one moment before their hands were yanked apart and he was thrown spinning.

  He should have struck a wall. Instead, he continued to spin. Light and darkness merged into a grey sameness. Then screams joined his own as he continued to tumble.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Tigano did not know for how long the world spun. The screams—both his own and those around him—had long since stopped. Only the grey sameness remained. Other faeries were present, but only as vague shapes, all helpless and unable to communicate. He had never felt so alone, unable to even see the eyes of another as they tumbled. He wished he had someone to share his terror at this separation.

  He yearned for Àibell, wondering if she was one of the faeries near him, or if she’d even been pulled into this place. Maybe it was only the wicked who were trapped in this hell. She did not deserve this fate, yet at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to have her with him.

  By the time he sensed that the grey sameness was growing lighter, he was numb. It was not only his limbs he could not feel, but his emotions as well. Lethargy had replaced terror, and he wondered with a detached curiosity if he were dead, if another explosion had killed them all and destroyed his home.

  Sometime later—he was uncertain how long—he realized he no longer moved but lay on his back. The first thing he felt was damp. The air was wet and cool, and so was the ground. Tall, looming shapes formed, grey at first until he could finally recognize tints of green. Comprehension dawned. Trees, of course, but massive beyond any he had seen in Ath Dara, with scraggly beards of lichen and trunks covered with thick mosses so bright he had to cover his eyes while they adjusted. Viscous fog swirled between the boles and he lay still until he was certain it wasn’t some ancient spirit.

  Finally he rolled over, slowly pushing himself to his knees. Sound returned: water dripping from leaves nearby, a river rushing past rocks somewhat further, and a waterfall roaring in the distance. He glanced about, finally taking his surroundings in, then slowly rose to his feet.

  He was in a valley that sharply split the arms of a jagged mountain, though he could not see its peak through the fog. Like the trees, the mountain dwarfed any he’d seen in Faery. A river tumbled down the valley, green like milky jade, swirling around colossal boulders as it rushed past. Chill mist roiled, and he followed his eyes up until he spotted the waterfall. The moment he observed its white water plunging into a deep pool, he could sense the magic.

  He marveled it had taken him so long. The valley was alive with spring magic. It flowed through not just the waterfall, but the river, trees, moss, and even the mist. It felt huge and hoary like the trees but also pure and unadulterated by any being. He breathed it in. It was as fragrant as any flower, as fresh as melting snow, and as rich as wet dirt.

  The latter smell caused him to glance about more closely. Thick ferns and mosses had hidden them at first, but boletes and morels grew in such abundance that he could gorge himself in one day and have no need to replenish his magic for a decade. He did not see any fairy circles, however. Faery had been cultivated for so long that he knew of no place where mushrooms grew wild like this.

  “Where am I?” he muttered.

  A moan nearby answered him and he glanced about, finally spotting the bodies of faeries scattered on both sides of the valley. Thousands of faeries and just as many goblins lay on fallen logs or under giant ferns or snuggled in beds of moss, all beginning to stir. As he recognized the glassy blue-green armor of Sluagh Sidhe warriors and the plain garb of servants, he realized all those who lived in Bruagh-na-Boyne might be here and glanced frantically about for Àibell.

  There was no sign of her, but he did spot Finaarva’s tall form only a dozen feet away and wondered how the king could end up so close to him, but not his wife.

  Just as the others’ eyes began to crack open and squint, a roar shattered the idyllic woodland. Faeries and goblins squealed as they frantically scrambled for cover even as they tried to take in their new surroundings.

  “Dragons!” shrieked many. “The dragons have come.”

  He wheeled towards the river. He knew the young crimson dragon who stalked towards them immediately. She was the one who had destroyed Finaarva’s dome and was clearly searching for something or someone among the faeries. She gripped a white orb of some sort. A red mist like a halo swirled around the orb, its power immediately evident.

  He took one step back, not wanting to draw attention, but was not near enough to any tree or log to hide.

  “Finaarva!” she suddenly cried and he cringed. In the peace of the forest, her bellow was as raucous as a pack of ogres. “Where are you, Finaarva?”

  She scanned the valley as those who had not yet scattered scrambled for cover. He stood still. He had never been so close to a dragon, and as terrifying as she was, he was equally fascinated by the magic stone she held.

  Then their eyes met and he recognized that, as puissant as the magic in the stone might be, she herself was even more steeped in power. Her bright green eyes scrutinized him as closely as he did her and he wondered why she was alone.

  “Where is Finaarva?” she hissed at him, her voice cold and cruel.

  “Who are you, dragon?” he asked as pleasantly as he could. “What do you want with the Lord of the Faeries?”

  She growled, and for a moment he worried she would incinerate him. Instead, she drew herself up haughtily.

  “Bring me your master, little goblin, or I will destroy you.”

  He decided to play meek and bowed, then turned to where he’d seen Finaarva. He quickly spotted the king kneeling behind a fern and peering between two fronds. Disgust at the faery’s cowardice filled him. He strode to the fern. The king was shirtless beneath his royal blue robe, which hung askew on his broad shoulders. Tigano glanced past the king and spotted Månefè several feet beyond and his stomach curdled. He wanted to strangle that faery but could feel the dragon’s gaze on his back.

  He reached out and grabbed Finaarva’s arm, dragging him from behind the fern.

  “Come on, your majesty,” he said, unable to fully hide his disgust. “You are wanted.”

  The king tumbled forward, but quickly scrambled to his feet and followed the changeling. By the time they faced the dragon, Finaarva was drawing himself as tall as possible while trying to adjust the robe and Tigano smirked at the king’s attempt to assert himself.

  “What do you want, dragon?” the king sneered.

  “Vengeance and justice,” the dragon answered, her voice soft but icy. Tigano wanted to run but knew she could kill them all with just a few fireballs.

  “Hah!” chortled Finaarva haughtily. “What would a fool dragon know of either? You’re nothing but a tool of Ao Shun. Where is he? Why hasn’t he dared to face the king of the Sidhe?”

  Tigano cringed. Is the idiot trying to get us killed? He glanced behind him. Månefè and other faeries peered from behind an immense log sheathed with wooly mosses, their wings pulled so tightly that they appeared as a single tip above their spiky hair. Once more he wondered where Àibell was and the fear he would never see her again made his stomach clench.

  Then the dragon threw her head back so that her entire long neck showed and roared in what he could only assume was laughter.
If he had been irrationally brave, he would have found some way to slit her throat while it was exposed.

  The moment was quickly lost, if it ever existed, and she lowered her head until her snout was so close he could smell her breath. Surprisingly, it reminded him of cinnamon.

  “Fool! I am Wu Zhao, your jailor. You are already in your prison, and here is the key!” She rose to her full height, holding the white orb up so every faery in the valley could see. The red halo shimmered and a milky light swirled slowly inside the orb. Then he noticed a dagger in her other hand.

  The valley fell silent as the faeries awaited her verdict. Even the rushing river seemed to still. Then she slammed the knife into the stone so hard the ground shook.

  “The gate is sealed,” she pronounced with the finality of a judge. The red misty halo was sucked back into the white stone. Then red and white light flowed like blood out of the orb, steaming as it struck the earth. Coils of pale red vapor spiraled up, reaching for the faeries. The first two coils pierced his and Finaarva’s chests and they lurched. It slithered inside him and, if he had a soul, the coil hooked it like a fish. He instantly knew he was tied to this place. It was not a feeling of belonging; it was a sensation that let him know he was now subservient to the magic of whatever spirits ruled this mountain.

  Then the coil ripped out of his back and he gasped from the pain. It was not a physical hurt, but a heaping of shame in which all his guilt was exposed. He glanced about. The coils spread, snaring one faery after the other, then weaved through their goblin servants. Shock marred each face and he wondered if they felt the same humiliation.

  Finally, as the coils of vapor had passed through the last faery and goblin, they spiraled into braids that weaved in and out too fast for the eye to follow, forming a dome that quickly rose above the nearby trees, expanding outward until it encased the entire valley as far as he could see. The dome began to glow, shimmering and intense until every frond and branch glistened. Just when he thought the radiance would blind him, the dome blazed once, then vanished with a loud snap that echoed up the valley. As the sound of rushing water and birds returned, he knew some spell had bound all the Sluagh Sidhe to this valley.

  “Finaarva!” Wu Zhao called out. “I leave you imprisoned forevermore. Play king if you want. Know this, however. Should any of you escape, I will hunt you down. You are all murderers who do not deserve any mercy but what Oberon mac Lir has granted. Dwell on that until you die.”

  Cries of rage sprang from every corner of the valley. He thought he saw surprise, if not fear, on the dragon’s face. Clearly, she had underestimated the faeries and the anger her magic had awoken, fueled, he was certain, by the degradation the spell had dumped on them. He watched as several rushed her, lightning crackling on their fingertips.

  She hastily launched herself, her belly glowing. He grabbed Finaarva’s arm, then ran, dragging the king behind him. They reached the enormous fallen log Månefè still hid behind just as the whoosh of the dragon’s fireball ignited. Both faeries dove behind the fallen tree as a wall of heat passed overhead. He remained crouched with his enemies for several seconds until he was certain the snap of her wings was fading, then cautiously peered over the log.

  The ground was black where Wu Zhao’s fireball had struck. Nothing remained of the attacking faeries, or anything else save smoke and ashes. He glanced up. The dragon hovered, still within reach if any faery was foolish enough to attempt a second attack, but all cowered. Despite the distance, he was certain her eyes locked onto his for several seconds until she finally whirled once and roared, then flew upwards, leaving them to their prison.

  He was the first to step out. Unlike the others, who seemed to be taking in their new home for the first time, his eyes sought out one thing only: his wife.

  She must have spotted him first, for she was flying towards him before he found her. He stood still, waiting, unable to read her face. It was pale and grim, and her long dark hair whipped wildly. She landed with a rush and he thought she would slap him. Instead, she flung her arms around his waist as she thudded into him and pressed her cheek against his chest. Cautiously, he extended his own arms around her shoulders, then realized she was crying. Gently, he stroked her hair with one hand, caring only that she was with him.

  Interlude 2

  Thunderbird

  The Pale Spirits first arrived in the land of the People of the Hoh in the time when the Great Ones still roamed the land. Bear, chief of the animal spirits, called for a powwow in the longhouse at the top of Mt. Sun-a-doo to discuss what should be done about the Pale Spirits, who are called The Transformed.

  Whale and Eagle were leery of the new spirits and called for guardians because The Transformed lived in a valley deep in the Hoh at the foot of the mountain where the People did not roam. They did not trust these spirits with their white skins and insect wings, and feared they would war with the People. Therefore Salmon, shaman of the animal spirits, formed the Skookum. They were tall and covered with fur, for they were to defend the Hoh from the Pale Spirits, but Salmon was wise and taught them to be gentle and kind to the People.

  Raven, however, told the powwow that the Pale Spirits were starving, for they did not know what berries and roots were safe to eat, being from a land far away. Therefore Bear told Raven to teach The Transformed what berries and roots they could eat in the hope the new spirits would remain deep in the Hoh, away from the People.

  Raven is a trickster, however. While he did show the Pale Spirits the berries and roots they could eat, he also told them of the People and their wealth. He led the greatest of The Transformed, the First One, to a village by the ocean. The First One was greedier than even Raven, and he disguised himself as Wolf. Entering the village, the First One demanded all the People had, taking even their canoes, totems, and masks.

  The people of the village would have perished, for their mortal enemies, the Makah, were raiding, but a new Great One arose, bigger and stronger than all other animal spirits. She captured a killer whale with only her talons and dropped it in the middle of the village so the people would not be hungry. Then she battled the First One to regain what he had stolen. The lightning of The Transformed was mighty, but her thunder and fire was greater, and she returned all that had been lost. She became known as Thunderbird and protected all the Hoh Peoples from the Pale Spirits as well as the Makah.

  Raven became jealous, for he had ever tried to help the People, but now Thunderbird was preeminent on their totems. He whispered in the ear of The Rage, the next greatest of The Transformed, how to trap Thunderbird. The Rage, being mighty in the powers of the Hoh, called forth the Sinulhkay, a great two-headed serpent, to dwell in Lake Quinault and to eat the People who fished there.

  Sure enough, Thunderbird soon came to battle the Sinulhkay, and slew it, and The Rage fled back to the valley of the Pale Spirits.

  Finally came the third mighty spirit of The Transformed, The Defiant One, who whispered to Basket Woman how to capture the children of the People so she might never run out of food. The other animal spirits tried to save the children, but The Defiant One was cleverer than even Raven, so not even Bear with all his strength nor Salmon with all his wisdom could defeat the monster. Then Whale went to Thunderbird and pleaded with her to stop Basket Woman before she might eat all the children.

  Thunderbird knew all her might alone could not save the children. She must be cannier than Basket Woman and so watched from the shadows until the monster had blinded all the children with the gum of fir trees. Basket Woman danced about a great fire and sang about how hot the rocks were, that soon the children would boil. Thunderbird whispered to the children and told them all to turn towards her, then blew hot air that melted the gum but did not harm the children. With their eyes free, they saw Basket Woman was so busy dancing that the monster was not watching them. They rushed Basket Woman and pushed her into the fire. The monster burned and the children were led home safely by Thunderbird.

  Therefore Bear called a potlatch
to honor Thunderbird, and she was raised to the Tribal Council and given the Blue Glacier on Mount Sun-a-doo as her home. For long after, whenever the Peoples of the Hoh had need of her, Thunderbird would answer. And whenever the strength of the Skookum failed and the Pale Spirits threatened, Thunderbird would leave the Blue Glacier to protect the People.

  Chapter 20

  The Boy

  December 23 sees more males in shopping malls than any other day, and the Martinez family was no exception. The boys piled into their dad’s SUV, the three of them arriving at The Tucson Mall just in time for it to open.

  Shopping was the exact break Miguel needed. He’d been brooding ever since the incident at the arcade two days previous. Carlos had asked him five times about the paramedics, as if nothing more exciting had ever happened. His dad had checked him over but asked no more questions once he was satisfied Miguel was all right. His mom, however, had appeared frightened and, by the look they shared, he was certain she knew his power was magic. Yet she withdrew from him even further, barely speaking.

  Once in the mall, all thought of the arcade and magic faded quickly. Finding a present for Isabel was easy; plushies in pink or purple were her favorite right now, and Miguel picked out a Pokemon Sylveon that had both colors while his brother chose a pink pig named Waddles. Their dad, on the other hand, could not resist buying her a four-foot panda.

  After that purchase, however, he tried to hide his face. Carlos and his dad had laughed, not caring at all about how ridiculous they looked carting the oversized teddy bear about the mall. After two of his classmates—pretty girls, of course—strolled by, he couldn’t take it any longer. He was certain they’d smirked at both the panda and him.

  Just as they were about to enter their third shop looking for a suitable present for his mom, he blurted, “Dad, can I have some money and do this on my own?”