Rage of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  “Now you tell me, Finn!”

  Charlotte disappeared under a couch.

  “David,” Eric shouted. “Get Mirith. I’ll hold off Maggot. Ready?”

  David nodded. “Just like old times, right? Go!”

  The two charged, yelling like madmen. Mirith whipped his head around as David and Eric clambered over the wreckage.

  David jumped in front of Mirith, his hands in the air. “Stop. You’re going to give us away. The shadowmorths. They’re going to find us. Einar will find us. Please. Stop.”

  Another bolt lit up the room.

  “David, that one almost hit me,” Eric yelled, diving onto Maggot’s back and latching on to the beast’s ears.

  The gargoyle growled, reared, and with a violent shake, sent Eric flying through the air. He crashed into a desk, bringing the contents down on him.

  “Mirith, please,” David yelled. “He’s not worth it. He’s just a gargoyle. You’re going to get us killed.”

  Eric’s hiding place disappeared, the heavy piece of furniture smashing into pieces behind him. Maggot hovered over him, his nails stretched out like an eagle’s talons ready to pluck a fish from a lake.

  Eric swallowed, his breathing heavy and uneven. A rod of light zoomed across the room, exploding across Maggot’s back. The gargoyle turned and flapped toward Mirith.

  One.

  Two.

  Three more bolts.

  The room burst into flames.

  A fourth bolt blew the roof off.

  Sunlight streamed into darkness.

  Outside came an ear-splitting screech.

  “Shadowmorths!” Eric screamed.

  Eric bounded over the piles of shattered wood as the swarms entered overhead. “David, get those spells ready!”

  “Thanks, Mirith, you stupid dragon,” David yelled.

  The window in the kitchen shattered. Shadowmorths screamed their way into the cottage, their appendages snapping.

  Charlotte screamed.

  Maggot soared overhead, plunging and diving into the fray. Purple droplets of blood rained down.

  Mirith bounded into the room, his tail zapping the wispy clouds of death.

  “David!” Finn yelled. “The necklace. The rutseer.”

  Two shadowmorths swarmed Finn and sliced his mid-section. He met David’s gaze and said, “Go,” before he collapsed to the floor.

  “No!” David yelled.

  Maggot circled and screeched. Mirith shot off more bolts.

  Charlotte scrambled across the room, grabbing the necklace and rutseer now rolling across the floor. “Guys, we have to go!”

  “I can’t leave him!” David wailed. “I have to save Finn!”

  “There’s nothing we can do!” Charlotte yelled. “We have to go!”

  Eric and David grasped her hands as shadowmorths swarmed. David clasped the necklace and rutseer in between their palms.

  A familiar grip tugged at David’s gut as they went spinning down a familiar black swirling hole.

  Again.

  David

  David gasped, his breathing ragged as his starving lungs sucked in every bit of air they could find. He clung to the nearest object—a countertop—and stood, his legs like two lead posts cemented in wet sand. His brain swirled in a fog. His vision skewed as if trying to see the world through oil drenched, opaque glass. Other raspy breaths chorused to each side of him, a higher, softer pitch to his left, a deeper, more resonating tone to his right.

  Charlotte.

  Eric.

  At least he hoped.

  He blinked once, twice, three times, a desperate attempt to shove the disorientation aside. Never had he felt so discombobulated. So out of sorts. He needed—no had to pull it together.

  He took several deep breaths. Slowed his breathing, and glanced around the room.

  A Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner. Black and white checkered floor tiles. Rounded stainless steel refrigerator, and red appliances.

  No. It can’t be.

  He knew this place all too well. He’d been here a hundred times. His first root beer float was served to him at the chromatic kitchen table with the red-cushioned chairs, the one near the window, beneath a rare autographed picture of a grinning nineteen-year-old Elvis Presley standing with his arm around a waiter from some bar called the Dive Bomber. That waiter was Francis Winston Loudermilk … a.k.a. Seyekrad.

  In hindsight, it all made sense: the neighborly history teacher slash friend slash father figure who disappeared from sight. Rumor had it he’d become very, very ill and was going to die. Then one day, he emerged from his home, his clothes and hair all askew. He’d sit outside and stare at David’s home. He’d mumble things at David as he walked by the house. The man he respected had turned into a deranged lunatic. So uncomfortably creepy and weird. It had been a long time since David stepped foot in Mr. Loudermilk’s house. His skin tingled, not from excitement, not from flooding memories, but from …

  Panic.

  Terror.

  The rutseer! Finn coded it to find the crystals, which meant …

  They’re here and Seyekrad has them!

  Charlotte stumbled into David, her legs wobbling like rubber stilts. David caught her and pressed a finger to his lips.

  Eric pulled himself up and balanced against the center island. “Why? Why is that the only way you know how to travel?”

  “Shh,” David said. “We’re not in a happy place. We’ve got to get out of here. Follow me.” He took a step toward the side door.

  The house rumbled as if moving over rolling logs. David, Charlotte, and Eric froze. A voice filtered from a distant room. “Silence, you mollycoddled dullard. I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Oh, no! Not good!” David shoved Charlotte and Eric through a door next to the refrigerator, and pulled it to without a sound. “Shh,” he whispered again, “and pray whoever is on the other side doesn’t need anything out of here.”

  David fidgeted with the ring on his forefinger. Footsteps padded across the floor on the other side, stopping just shy of their hiding place. Go away, David prayed, his heart ready to leap from his chest.

  The refrigerator door opened. There was the rattling of ice, the clink of cubes hitting a glass. Water turned on and off in the sink. And then the footsteps retreated, fading into nothing.

  David exhaled. “Good God, that was close.”

  “Who was that?” Eric asked. His tone suggested he already knew but was looking for confirmation.

  “I’ll give you one guess,” David said. “This house used to belong to my neighbor before Seyekrad nached his body. Now it’s his.”

  “Which means, if we’re here, and the rutseer knows what it’s doing, Seyekrad has the crystals,” Charlotte said.

  “Exactly,” David said.

  “If that’s true, why are we standing around in this pantry hissing in each other’s ears?” Eric quipped. “Let’s find them and get back to Fallhollow.”

  “Wait.” David pressed his ear to the door. He pushed it open enough to confirm the kitchen was empty, then motioned everyone out.

  “Who do you think he was talking to?” Charlotte whispered.

  David shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Eric pulled the chrome handle on the red refrigerator and peered inside. He shut the door. “What is this thing? How does it work? What’s its purpose?”

  “It’s a refrigerator,” David answered, “and it keeps food fresh and cold. I’ll explain later. Right now, I’d like to know how he didn’t sense us hiding in the pantry.”

  “That is curious,” Eric said. “Even more so is what caused that massive rumble.”

  David shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

  Charlotte grabbed both their arms. “I have a better idea. Let’s suppose Seyekrad does know we’re here and he’s luring us into a trap? I say we go to my house, talk about it, and come up with a plan that won’t get us killed.”


  Eric and David looked at each other and shook their heads. “No,” they said in unison.

  David smiled. “I’m starting to like you more and more.” He held up his hand, his palm facing Eric.

  Eric paused, a perplexed look on his face. “What are you doing? Why are we stopping? We haven’t gone anywhere.”

  David suppressed a chuckle. “No. It’s called a high-five. You take your palm and slap it against mine.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a symbol of celebration when something good is said or done.”

  “And to what are we high-fiving?”

  David lowered his hand and glanced at Charlotte, who smiled at him in return.

  “Never mind, buddy,” he said, patting Eric on the back. “Let’s go hunt for some crystals.”

  David led them down a hallway trimmed with display cases housing medieval weapons, armor, and antique books. He grinned at Eric’s wide-eyed expression. If he only knew how many other artifacts the ex-history teacher had in private collections and museums around the world.

  The living room at the end of the hall looked exactly as it had when he’d last seen it. Lime green shag carpet. A white couch with pale pink rose buds on vines. An upholstered chair with white and lime green stripes.

  And to his right, a wall lay open, revealing a stone wall lit with torches.

  David’s body locked. His brain seized in some sort of stoned paralysis.

  “Looks like we found the source of the rumble,” Eric said.

  David willed his feet to move forward. “That wasn’t here before.”

  Voices wafted on a breath of cool air from below.

  The lair of the beast.

  His stomach and heart swapped places. His pulse thumped in his ears.

  “Crystals,” Charlotte whispered, her voice rippling through him. “Betcha a duck against a donut they’re down there with him.”

  Eric sidled around her and peered down the dark passage. He glanced over his shoulder and met David’s gaze. Ready? he mouthed.

  David nodded.

  Cool air snapped against his face as he entered the chamber. The breath of death. He admonished the thought and followed the ramp downward, stopping short of entering a dimly lit room at the bottom. The aroma of pipe tobacco lingered in the air. David listened. The voices came from another room far away. He held his breath and stepped inside.

  The room was immense. Built of stone, it spanned the length of the house. Wrought iron chandeliers hung from wood beams anchored to a high ceiling. Old, worn books stuffed the grand bookshelves, and papers, yellowed and crumbling with age, lay in stacks on the floor beside an overstuffed chair. Above the massive fireplace hung a vibrant tapestry, at least fifteen feet wide by fifteen feet tall, depicting peacocks, unicorns, and knights on horseback; goblets, chalices, and vases cluttered the mantel. Two arched doorways, separated by a scenic carving of dueling dragons and knights, punctuated the wall across from them, expanding the chamber even deeper still under the backyard.

  “This is sick,” Charlotte said.

  “You’re telling me,” David replied.

  Eric edged into the room, his gaze focused on a massive table topped with ancient scrolls, blueprints, and various sized parchments He took several steps toward it.

  David’s finger pulsed with warmth. He glanced down at his ring, now aglow in a vibrant blue. Two voices approached from the corridor furthest away.

  Eric grabbed Charlotte and dived behind a sofa. David followed, tucking his legs to his chest as a door opened and two people stepped inside.

  “I see you have acquired a new addition since yesterday afternoon,” said a man as he sat on a cushion above Charlotte’s head. She closed her eyes tight and covered her mouth. “Where did you get it?”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. Anger settled on his brow. There was no doubt he knew who the voice belonged to, and more importantly, he was an enemy.

  “Why, your father, the Baron von Stuegler, of course,” said Seyekrad as he walked toward a hutch.

  The man’s nauseating voice blasted chills up David’s spine.

  “It was to have been a gift to you, Bainesworth, upon your claiming the Hirthinian throne. But you failed and now it’s mine, a token for saving your insignificant life.”

  Bainesworth! David repeated in his head. But I killed him! I put an arrow through him. He fell.

  “There are far more insignificant lives than mine who owe you favors and debts of gratitude, Seyekrad. Are you going to cash in on all of them?”

  “When the time comes,” he said. “Care for a brandy?”

  “I’d love one.”

  Bainesworth rose and walked over to Seyekrad. Glasses clinked and there was a moment of silence before Bainesworth ordered another.

  Liquid gurgled into a glass. “You gulped that down fast enough. What has you in such a dither?” Seyekrad asked. There was an edge of suspicion in his voice.

  “An ill feeling, as if being watched.” There was a brief moment of silence before Bainesworth continued. “Pay no mind. It must be my suspicious mind running away with me, as I am certain your mighty sorcery would detect anything or anyone out of ordinary.”

  David gulped, his heart beating in his throat.

  “Quite right,” Seyekrad said.

  More liquid spilled into glasses.

  “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what is this mess strewn about the table?” Bainesworth asked.

  “Papers that are of little consequence to you.”

  A glass clunked on the table. “You know, Seyekrad, I am getting rather irritated at your lack of trust in me. Remember, you were the one who approached me to help find and kill the paladin. As it is, you have nixed all of my ideas, and remarkably failed at every one of yours.”

  “I have not failed!” Another glass banged on the table. “You wait. The rutseer I enchanted will find its way into the Eye of Kedge, and that bratty thorn of a paladin will have no choice but to bring it home. When he returns, I’ll collect the Eye and you can remove his head.”

  David cringed. He didn’t want to lose his head. He was, after all, rather partial to it. Maybe he should take Bainesworth’s head, instead.

  No, one side of his brain said. That would-be murder.

  No, it wouldn’t, the other side retaliated. It would be self-defense.

  But.

  No buts.

  And so, it went, his conscience fighting with itself until Bainesworth silenced it.

  “I look forward to ending his life after what he did to me, and Sir Trogsdill will be next. You have no idea how much I loathe his existence.”

  “You will have your chance to suffocate the life from him as well, provided you remain on my good side. You know how I detest disobedience, especially by those whose lives I’ve pulled from the abyss of death.” Seyekrad stepped closer to his guest. “I can always return you to the place from whence you came.”

  “Do not threaten me, Seyekrad. You need me. Besides, it would be a shame for the Dragon King to discover there was a plot afoot, and his trusted advisor and confidant was being held against his will by the likes of you. I do not think that would bode well, do you?”

  Seyekrad chuckled. “My, my. You do know how to play this game.”

  “Better than you can imagine,” Bainesworth replied. “Now, what are these papers?”

  “Nothing much. Historical documents and such, but here is what pleases me the most.”

  “Well, well,” Bainesworth said, “an elaborate map of the Dragon King’s prison beneath Lake Sturtle. Oh, I think this might suit our plans quite well.”

  Seyekrad laughed. “The Dragon King will have a long time to contemplate his position once we eliminate the paladin and the heir, and turn Gyllen and Berg castles over to their rightful scions.”

  Bainesworth chuckled. “Indeed.” He lifted his glass in a toast. “To the demise of Hirth and the Dragon King.”

&nbs
p; The clink of glasses rippled through David’s body. His hands turned cold. So they were in cahoots with each other to take over two kingdoms. But at the same time, they continued to do Einar’s biddings. What was up with that? Were they really stupid enough to think they could betray Einar in such a way and live? And did they really think they could return the dragon back to the lair beneath Lake Sturtle? The thought almost made him laugh.

  The men remained in the room for hours, eating, talking, conspiring, before extinguishing the lights and retreating down different hallways of the sanctum.

  David, Charlotte, and Eric groaned as they stretched the stiffness from their bodies.

  Upstairs, the wall rumbled closed.

  “Oh, no!” Charlotte said. “No, no, no, no!”

  “How did he close the door?” Eric asked, army-crawling from beneath the couch.

  “Magic,” David said, emerging from their hiding space after Charlotte. “How else?”

  Rumble.

  Rumble.

  “No! Don’t close!” Charlotte breathed, scrambling to her feet.

  They ran up the ramp. Go!

  Go!

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Freedom.

  So close. So close.

  They hit the landing.

  The door shut.

  “No!” David banged his fist on the wall.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Charlotte said. “What the freak do we do now?”

  “Look for a mechanism of some sort,” Eric said. “All secret passageways have a device to make them open.”

  “Unless they’re built by a sorcerer!”

  The three of them felt along the walls, searching for a button, a switch, anything that would slide the door open.

  David froze, his brain firing warnings. “Stop!” he whispered. “We can’t do this. Even if we found the button or lever or whatever it is, this wall isn’t exactly quiet. If this thing starts to open and Seyekrad didn’t do it, he’ll be on top of us like flies on crap.”

  “And if he comes around that corner down there and finds us here?” Charlotte asked. “Uh uh, wiener whiner. You can sit around and wait for that magical zip zap party if you want, but I’m getting out of here.” She continued scanning the wall.