by Bryan Davis
Billy pointed with the spyglass. “The shadow people are probably on the front lines.”
“Hoping to strangle us in our sleep, I assume.”
“That’s what I would guess.”
“The dragons sense them,” Elam said, “but they say that danger is closing in from the north at a faster rate, and it’s a different kind of danger.”
“The Vacants?”
Elam nodded. “We already caught a scout. The conspiracy between them and Flint’s army has now reached its climax.”
“Who’s watching the birthing garden?”
“Sorentine.”
“Sorentine?” Billy shook his head. “That won’t work. My mother said she’s …” He paused, searching for a kind word. “Well, she’s not exactly a genius.”
“Don’t worry,” Elam said, laughing. “Patrick’s with her. With his brains and her brawn, they’re a perfect combination.”
Billy breathed a sigh. “You scared me for a minute.”
“Give her a chance. Courage and love are more important than brains.” Elam set his hands on the parapet. “So now we wait.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Billy eyed Elam. Those words stung. Again it seemed that the ages-old warrior chief oozed more wisdom than Billy could learn in a lifetime. And he was right. He needed to give Sorentine a break. She was doing the best she could.
“Are we missing any steps?” Elam asked. “Can you think of anything else you heard or saw behind enemy lines that might help?”
Billy began counting on his fingers. “You already know what Yereq’s doing. You know about the candlestones and Karrick.”
“Right. Since we don’t know who has candlestones, we decided to split up the dragons. Most of them will assist on the northern side against the Vacants, while Clefspeare and Legossi patrol the northeastern front. They should be enough to fight Goliath and Karrick. When we figure out if Flint has candlestones and how he’ll use them, we’ll decide how to shift our dragon army. In the meantime, it’s best to hold Thigocia back until we have a handle on the situation. We don’t want our dragon healer injured.”
Billy touched a third finger. “There’s one more thing. I didn’t tell you how Karrick was born. Somehow Flint got some soil from the resurrection garden and one of the bones, and Goliath used them to call Karrick from a place called the Valley of Souls. When Devin and Palin killed Roxil, her unborn youngling went to that valley, and all they had to do was call him out to resurrect him.”
“But when could they have done that? We haven’t had another eclipse cycle.”
“They must have done it at the same time we resurrected Dr. Conner,” Billy said. “I guess they already had their garden by then. I described Karrick to my father, and he says four years old is about right.”
“But who provided the soil and bone?”
Billy tightened his grip on the spyglass. “I already know what you think.”
“Look,” Elam said, grasping Billy’s arm, “I’m not blaming you for putting any trust in Semiramis. If she stole soil and a bone, she must have done it before that night. You’re in the clear.”
Billy nodded. It was true. Semiramis had convinced him to find Shiloh after they called for Dr. Conner, so Flint must have already had his garden set up. Then why would Arramos need to plant something in the village’s garden if they already had one of their own? Was Semiramis able to transport the bone and soil under the wall at the river but unable to transport the plant’s seed? Or did she have some other reason for making sure their plant grew in the original birthing garden? “All that aside,” Billy said, “there’s another issue. With the season of death over, we’re bound to have another eclipse cycle, so we can call Makaidos and probably anyone else in the Valley of Souls.”
“Anyone else?” Elam raised his eyebrows. “Do you know who’s down there?”
Billy looked away for a moment. Explaining this part wouldn’t be easy. “It’s like this. I’ve been having dreams where I see Bonnie praying. Sometimes she’s alone, and sometimes she’s with Sapphira, but she keeps praying the same thing over and over.” He paused for a moment. A lump was forming in his throat, and he had to get rid of it. Just before a life-or-death battle was no time to get so emotional. “She always says, ‘Call to me, and I will answer you.’”
“You’ve mentioned that before. That’s on Bonnie’s poster.”
“But there’s more. In the dream she mentions rising again if I’ll say her name.”
Elam nodded and stretched out his reply. “Oh, I see.”
“I know, I know. You think I’m probably conjuring up some kind of hopeful daydream, but this one’s not like that. You’d have to experience it to understand.”
“Trust me. I’ve had dreams about Sapphira like that, especially one where we’re dancing near a fountain, sort of like the fountain in our village, only it’s in a ballroomlike setting.” He tilted his head upward and inhaled deeply. “It’s so real I can almost feel the spray.”
“So you get what I mean. Maybe our dreams are prophetic.”
“Hard to say for sure,” Elam said, shrugging. “But if Bonnie and Sapphira went to the Valley of Souls, it would explain why no one’s seen them.”
“Then is it worth a try?”
“Maybe, but we don’t know when the next eclipse is supposed to be.”
“True.” Billy looked at Pegasus. It seemed bright, similar to the brightness it had shone after the first eclipse, but since they hadn’t seen its fullness in years, it was hard to remember for certain. “Valiant would’ve kept up with the calendar, but if tonight’s the night, we can’t wait to ask him.”
The moon’s glow reflected in Elam’s eyes. “If it is, the moon’s already getting close to the crucial angle.”
“Do you think I have time?” Billy touched Excalibur’s hilt. “I have all I need to energize the soil.”
Elam looked toward Adam’s Marsh. “Probably plenty of time before Flint’s troops arrive, but it’s such a long shot. According to the prophecy, it’s possible only two nights out of the month.”
“Wouldn’t it make sense for Abraham and Angel to time their departure for the very day we needed to use the garden? We can’t miss this opportunity.”
“But if Abraham planned it that way, he would want us to resurrect his son. We can’t miss another chance to call back Makaidos, especially when your idea is based on a dream.”
Billy tensed his jaw. Elam’s logic was right on target. How could a message in a dream overcome basic common sense? Dreams were just wishful thinking more often than anything, but sometimes they meant something more, and his vision of Bonnie was so deeply rooted, this dream had to be one of those times.
Years ago, he had read Bonnie’s prayer in her journal, and a vision of her appeared in his mind, her wings spread in full flight. She begged him to take Excalibur from her hands. Not long before that vision, Professor Hamilton had said of Excalibur, “It was bestowed to you as a gift from above. It was meant for you to wield in battle.” But he had refused the professor’s wisdom, and rejecting divine revelation when it defied his ill-informed logic had led to a huge mess.
Elam shook Billy’s shoulder. “Hey, we can’t wait forever. If you want to give the garden a try, you’d better go now.”
Tightening his muscles, Billy set his feet. “Elam, your reasons for calling Makaidos are right on the mark, but I think something’s going on, something we don’t understand. I’ll go to the garden, and I’ll do what you told me, but I’m asking for a little slack.”
Elam set his stare on Billy and held it for several seconds. Finally, he exhaled and nodded. “I expect you to call Makaidos, but if wisdom guides you otherwise, you may do as you see fit.”
“Thank you.” Billy hustled down the stairs. “Don’t start the war without me.”
“If we get attacked,” Elam called. “I’ll send up a flare. But don’t forget. The Vacants could show up from the north at any minute.”
“Got it!” As Billy jog
ged along the path to the village, he imagined the resurrection procedure. Would he have to get Ruth to recite the poem? Apparently Flint performed a rebirth without her, but could Goliath have provided the words? He was at his own resurrection, but not really physically present until after the poem’s recitation. Maybe they forced Roxil to sing it, but exactly when she showed up during the ceremony wasn’t clear at all, and how could she have memorized it in one hearing?
When he arrived at the central circle, he stopped and pulled off his cloak. The air was getting warmer by the minute.
A sweet voice reached his ear. “Billy?”
“Listener?” Turning, he found her standing by a street lantern. She was dressed in the village’s uniform, much like Elam’s but without the marching dragon, signifying that she would not be in the battle. A troubled frown wrinkled her face. “What’s wrong?” Billy asked.
“I was napping, and I had a strange dream. An elderly man asked me to do something. He was kind and gentle, so I hope it comes true someday, but I didn’t understand his request. It was so puzzling.”
Billy ached to take the time to hear more, but he couldn’t delay much longer. “Dreams are like that sometimes. Maybe it’ll become clear later.”
“Where is your uniform?” she asked.
Billy clutched his tunic. “I haven’t had time to put it on, and now I have to go to the garden.”
“I can bring it to the garden for you.”
“That would be great. Would you also ask Ruth to come? I need her to recite the resurrection poem.”
“Really?” In the light of a dozen street lanterns, Listener’s eyes sparkled. “Are you going to call Makaidos?”
“Yeah.” Billy cleared his throat. No sense in letting her in on the other option. “Anyway, that’s the plan.”
Listener ran toward Billy’s hut. “I’ll meet you there!”
He watched her young legs, so light, so strong. No conflicts did battle in her mind, while his own conflicts made his legs feel like slabs of concrete.
Pushing his feet forward, he trudged toward the birthing garden. No use hurrying. He couldn’t do anything until Ruth got there.
As he walked into the bordering forest, his view darkened. He had forgotten to carry a light, but it didn’t matter; he knew the path well. With blackness ahead of him, his dream of Bonnie took over his senses, and the first line of her song repeated, Call to me, and I will answer you. Her delivery was quiet, as if she called from another world, yet it was forceful, a plea that reached from heart to heart.
Billy clenched a fist. It had to be real. It just had to be. But how could a dreamer convince anyone of a feeling? Elam had made his wishes clear, so Billy had to make those his priority, but how could he ignore the inner turmoil? He had said, “Don’t start the war without me,” but it felt like the war had already begun, at least in his mind, and this decision might be the first salvo for either side, and maybe a decisive one.
When he reached the field and the path to the garden, he forced his legs into a jog and focused on a single lantern light in the distance. His shoes squished. The surrounding snow was obviously melting, and the ground felt like a blend of dead grass and mud.
“Patrick!” he called as he drew close. “It’s Billy.” He slowed to a stop, sliding a bit in the mud. Patrick stood at the garden’s edge while Sorentine sat on her haunches behind him.
Patrick’s bushy white eyebrows arched up. “I’m glad to see you, William. What brings you out here?”
“We need to try a resurrection.”
Patrick looked up at the moon. “I was just thinking about that. The shadow angles are precisely what they were when we began Dr. Conner’s ceremony. I suspect that, if not for the season of death, we would have had a normal eclipse last night or perhaps the night before.”
Billy cocked his head. “Really? You remember details like that?”
“Oh, yes. Charles Hamilton and I were both avid astronomy buffs, so I take careful note of celestial events.”
As Billy looked up at the stars, a memory flowed into his mind, the early morning when he and the professor were in En-gland waiting for Bonnie to arrive with Clefspeare and Hartanna. Prof pointed out Ursa Major and Polaris, as well as another star Billy had never heard of. The wise old professor definitely knew the celestial sky.
“Listener is bringing Ruth.” Billy touched Excalibur’s hilt. “I suppose I can go ahead and energize the bones.”
“Ruth might not be able to come. She has taken ill, and I believe Dr. Conner is examining her as we speak.”
Billy looked toward the village. Listener strode quickly down the path, alone, sloshing through the mud. When she arrived, she slipped and nearly fell, but Billy caught her in time.
Breathless, she handed Billy his uniform. “Ruth is too sick to come. Dr. Conner says it was probably something she ate, and it will pass soon, but she is so nauseated, she can hardly move.”
Billy stripped off his tunic, leaving him bare-chested. He had learned long ago that the people of Second Eden had few modesty standards, so Listener wouldn’t give his appearance a second thought. “So what can we do?” he asked as he pushed his arms through a long-sleeved red shirt. “If this is the second night, we won’t have another chance until next month.”
“True,” Patrick said, “but must my wife be the one to sing the words?”
“Well, no.” Billy put on the second layer, a short-sleeved silver shirt made of a woven cloth as tough as chain mail. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Then we have a solution.” Patrick patted his torso, speaking slowly as if distracted by his search for something buried in his clothing. “Ruth has practiced it many times since her previous recital. I helped her by writing it down and following along while she practiced, and when the season of death ended, she asked me to find the transcription, so I located it …” He pulled a wrinkled piece of parchment from inside his coat. “Ah! Here it is.”
Billy looked at the palm-sized scrap. Patrick’s handwriting was sloppy but readable.
“The only problem that remains is the tune,” Patrick said. “Do you know it?”
“No. Didn’t Ruth practice it?”
“Only the words. Adding the tune slowed us down.”
“Maybe the tune doesn’t matter,” Billy offered. “The words have the power, right?”
“I wouldn’t be so certain, William. Music has great power. One tune can make a man rise up with his muscles flexed, while another can sap his energy.”
“May I see the song?” Listener asked, reaching for the parchment.
“Certainly.” Patrick handed it to her. “Have you heard it?”
Listener shook her head, her eyes trained on the words. “I wasn’t at the garden either time, but I heard Ruth humming a tune many times, and I told her it sounded like one I have had running through my head for as long as I can remember. I wanted to see if the words fit.”
“And?” Billy prompted.
Looking up from the parchment, she nodded. “I think so, but I should practice first to make sure.”
Rapid-fire thoughts raced through Billy’s mind. They couldn’t drag Ruth out there on a wild hunch that it might be the appropriate resurrection night, and if Listener, the little girl who was known for her listening and memory prowess, was sure, then maybe her tune was the right one. Besides, they had to hurry. The battle might start at any minute. “Okay. Listener will sing the words, and I’ll light up the bones.”
“Is there any way I might be of service?” Sorentine asked.
Billy looked into her hopeful eyes. How could he find a way for a not-so-bright dragon to do something useful? “Uh … how about if you help Listener practice? Every singer needs someone as a sounding board.”
Sorentine’s brow drooped, and her long neck swung her head away. “Very well.”
Billy’s heart sank. He had hurt her feelings. She might not be brilliant, but she knew a veiled dismissal when she heard one. Yet, what could he do about it no
w?
He took Patrick’s arm and guided him a few feet into the garden. “I have a dilemma,” he said in a low tone. “I’ve been having these dreams that Bonnie wants me to call her. I think this is where I’m supposed to do it, but Elam thinks it would be wrong to bypass resurrecting Makaidos for the third time just because I’ve been dreaming about Bonnie.”
Patrick stroked his chin for a moment before answering. “Do you have any corroborating evidence?”
“You mean, something more than just the dream?” He shook his head. “Not really. Just that the phrase Bonnie sings in the dream is the same one that led me to suggest calling Dr. Conner from the garden.”
“Ah, yes, and that worked out quite well. We needed a doctor far more urgently than we needed Makaidos that night.”
“True, but we sure could use Makaidos now.”
“Indeed.” Patrick looked down at one of the garden’s pregnant plants and used his shoe to push soil over an exposed root. “It seems that, absent corroborating evidence, you should heed Elam—”
“Billy,” Sorentine called. “I must tell you something.”
He looked back at the village. No flare yet. “Sure. What is it?”
“Listener’s song. I know the tune.”
“You know it?” Billy walked back to the edge of the garden where Listener was staring up at the dragon with wide eyes. “How could that be?”
“It is a lullaby we dragons sing to our smallest younglings. Before the transformation, I sang it to my unborn little one. She moved so much inside me, I thought she must have heard my voice.”
“She?” Billy asked. “How did you know?”
“When the time gets close, we dragons sense the gender. Yet, I know not what happened to my little one when I was transformed. Her movement slowed greatly, so I sang nearly all day, hoping to wake her up, perhaps to regenerate her as I was regenerated. But I never learned why she was so quiet. The slayer killed me before she was born.”
As Billy looked at her serious face, a tingle ran across his skin. Something strange was happening. The mysterious dragon and the even more mysterious girl couldn’t possibly know the same tune. “How …” Billy swallowed. “How does your song go?”