Rage of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  He was thankful David and Charlotte didn’t follow him. They probably needed as much time as he did to process the truth, and while it was difficult to force the truth from his mouth, he was glad he’d done so. Now the burden wasn’t only his to carry.

  Time passed, as did the sorrow. Eric sat on the edge of the bed and studied the room flooded in moonlight. On the nightstand were two framed pictures, one of a woman with shimmering blond hair and a radiant smile; the other of a clean-cut, stately man with dark hair standing beside a sleek, metallic winged vessel. David’s parents perhaps? He studied the picture for quite a while before noticing the larger, more colorful pictures on the walls of the same craft. He picked up the picture and walked around the room, reading the words on each vivid display.

  F-22 Raptor.

  Air Supremacy.

  Strength.

  Stealth. Shoot before seen.

  There were people sitting inside the flying machines. He glanced down at the picture in his hand.

  His heart fluttered. Every butterfly in all the worlds migrated to his stomach. Could these mechanical wonders fight dragons? Could they win? Did David’s father know how to fly one of these steel dragons? Was that why he was in Fallhollow, to inform the mages of these magnificent machines?

  He put the picture back where he got it and turned his attention to the trophies in the corner, all with archers on the top. There must have been three dozen if not more, all different sizes and colors. A smile tugged at his mouth. So, David was as good as he said.

  On a couch he found two cases, one empty, the other housed an exquisite longbow of kingwood and oak. He plucked it from its case and held it up, the string pulled back to his cheek. It felt light. Smooth. Perfect. A paladin’s weapon.

  Sitting on shelves above the couch were framed papers: National AP Scholar Award, U.S. Presidential Scholars Award, National Honor Society, American Citizenship Award, and they went on and on, some duplicates, but the dates were different, and none of them coincided with dates in Fallhollow. How was that even possible? How could time be so similar yet so different? It was no wonder David felt so out of his realm, so confused while in Fallhollow. Time had a way of changing everything, even perceived reality.

  He continued his way around the room, examining every item, his interest piqued more and more with every discovery. Pens with built-in tubes of ink. Fans that spun in the ceiling.

  He kicked at the items on the floor, moving them aside so he didn’t step on them. There was another television like the one downstairs, hanging on the wall, and a shiver crept up his spine. He knew what that did and wanted no part of it. Beside his feet was a dark brown seat of some sort that crinkled at his touch. Curious, he sat down in it and smiled at the way it engulfed him. He wiggled his butt in and stretched out his legs, his arms dangling over the side. Something hard dug into his hip. He shifted a bit and withdrew a black rectangular object with multiple colored buttons buried in the folds of the seat. There were strange words stamped upon each one.

  VOL. CH. REW. FF. 3D. AUX. STEREO. POWER.

  Hmm. What do these do?

  Eric started pushing buttons.

  Noise, loud and wailing, blasted from two boxes on either side of the television. He scrambled to his feet his palms to his ears. Turn it off! He picked up the culprit and pressed every button. One of them had to work.

  The television sprang to life. A moving picture of a guy dragging a creature in a large sack with strings appeared. Two thin, flat black boxes turned on. A sleek silver box whirred and a black tray popped out.

  The door to the bedroom flew open. David rushed inside, grabbed the object from Eric’s hand and turned everything off.

  “H-how did you do that?” Eric stuttered, his ears still ringing.

  David pointed to the power button. “This one. It controls the off and on.” He tossed it back into the squishy chair where Eric was sitting. “Are you okay?” he asked, his concern genuine.

  Eric shook his head. “Yes. No. I don’t know. What was that noise that assaulted my ears?”

  “Noise? Dude, that was Led Zeppelin, possibly the greatest rock band known to mankind.”

  “It is one of our many versions of music,” Charlotte said, standing in the doorway. She flicked a switch on the wall and lamps on either side of the bed came on.

  “Music? I heard nothing but caterwauling,” Eric said.

  David laughed. “Remind me not to play you any Metallica.”

  Eric sat on the bed, his breathing returning to normal. He pointed at the lamp beside the bed. “How does that work?”

  “Electricity,” David said. “Just like the oven. It powers just about everything in our world.”

  “Even them?” He pointed to the replica of the F-22 dangling from the ceiling fan.

  “No. Those aren’t real. They just hang there looking all bad.”

  “But they are models of real ones, right? Do real ones use electricity?”

  “Yeah, kind of, but those are a lot more complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “They require fuel, and not just any kind of fuel. It’s like kerosene, but better. But it’s not the fuel that makes these babies supreme.” He opened a drawer in a nightstand and withdrew another plane identical to the ones hanging.

  “Oh, Lord, here we go.” Charlotte plopped on the bed and curled up with a pillow.

  David ignored her. “These planes are like the Jared’s of all planes. They have incredible stealth capabilities and can maneuver like nothing you’ve ever seen. The sensors, they allow the pilots to track, identify, shoot, and kill air-to-air threats before being detected. And you know what the great thing is? They’re damn near impossible to detect on radar. Plus, they have super cruise capabilities, which means they don’t have to use the afterburners to go the speed of sound.”

  “S-speed of sound? That’s impossible.” Nothing could travel that fast.”

  “Yep, and these babies can pretty much blow anything out of the air and off the ground before anyone sees them coming. They don’t call them F-22 Raptors for nothing.”

  “Can they blow up a dragon?”

  David froze, the animation in his face gone. “What?”

  “Can it destroy a dragon?”

  Charlotte sat up, her face twisted in confusion. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking?”

  “I don’t know. Are you thinking what we think you’re thinking?”

  “Answer the question. Can these things kill Einar?”

  “Umm, I suppose so, but that’s kind of impossible at the moment,” David said.

  “Why? I thought you said they had all these fighting capabilities.”

  David put the plane in the drawer and shut it. “They do, but … ”

  “But what? Can they or can they not destroy Einar?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they can destroy ten Einars before they knew what hit them, but that’s not the problem.”

  “What is?”

  “One,” Charlotte said, “how are you going to get one into Fallhollow? Two, even if we figured that one out, you don’t just walk onto an Air Force base and ask to borrow one of the most expensive military planes ever built. Third, we don’t know anyone who could fly one.”

  “My dad could,” David said.

  “Well then,” Eric said. “I suppose we need to get busy and find your father, don’t we?”

  David

  David rolled over and stared at the model F-22 dangling from the ceiling fan, Eric’s preposterous idea turning over in his mind. The guy had only been in this world for less that twenty-four hours and already wanted to steal a billion-dollar aircraft, somehow take it back to Fallhollow, and blow up Einar with it. While David had no problem with the result, pulling it off would be next to impossible. It was an insane idea, yet …

  The smell of coffee and bacon begged him to get up, but he’d forgotten what it felt like to sleep in
his own bed, with a real pillow and all the luxuries of home. Never again would he take it for granted. While the fineries at Gyllen Castle were extraordinary, they had nothing on memory foam beds, hot showers, or disposable razors.

  He wondered how Eric managed through his first night in the 21st century. Did he feel as out of place as David felt his first night in Fallhollow? It was difficult enough going back in time. Going forward in time must have its own WTF moments, too. He rolled out of bed and padded out onto the landing and down the hallway to Eric’s room. The door opened after a single knock.

  David yawned. “I was just checking on you. Seeing how you slept.”

  “All right, for the most part.” Eric scratched his head all over. “I like the bed, though I’m not too fond of the floral décor.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Sorry. I should have probably searched out a better room. It’s just this one was the closest to mine.”

  Eric stretched and flexed his arms over his head. A scar, at least eight inches in diameter puckered like a full moon in the center of his back. He tried to imagine what had caused it, the pain he must have suffered. And it wasn’t the only one. There were many, each with their own story.

  David glanced at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “I take it you found the bathroom okay and figured it all out? I guess I should have given you the ten-cent tour of how that all worked.”

  Eric faced David, his shirt wadded in his hands. “Einar did it. The scar on my back. He skewered me with a talon.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay, and to answer your question, yes, I figured out the toilet. It’s brilliant.”

  David swallowed. He could almost feel the wound deep in his chest as it ripped open. The agony. It must have been … there was no word to describe it. And how had he survived? By all reasoning, Eric should be dead, but he wasn’t.

  His brain throbbed with questions begging for answers that had no logical explanations. Perhaps someday the mysteries would unravel. Right now, he needed air.

  “Good, good. Umm, I need to take a shower, get dressed. If you want, you can rummage through my closet and find something clean to wear. I think you and I are about the same size. If you want to take a shower, feel free to. It’s in the bathroom behind the glass doors. Just pull out on the knob and turn the handle to get the right temperature of water. There’s soap and shampoo. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  Eric smiled. “I’m sure I will, but thanks.”

  David nodded and retreated to his room. He shut the bathroom door a moment later and lingered in the shower until the water turned cold, his mind a knotted mess of worry over his parents, Gertie and Garret, Mirith, Finn, the crystals. When would the nightmare ever end? When would life return to normal? Was there such a thing?

  He dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and took the servant’s steps to the kitchen, following the laughter and chatter to the formal dining room. He turned the corner and jolted to a stop.

  Slavandria sat at the head of the dressed table, her elbows on the arms of her chair and her fingers steepled to her lips, waiting. At the serving table stood Eric and Charlotte, both dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. They both glanced his way as he entered the room. As always, Charlotte greeted him with a smile that melted the very fabric of his being. He pushed the emotion aside and returned a half-smile. The days of pining for her were over, the decision made in the middle of the night upon waking from a horrid nightmare in which his indecision left her dead. The thought was more than he could bear. He had to move on without her. He had to. To protect her from the danger that followed him. She was home, and he’d do everything he could to see she stayed here, even if it meant leaving her and everything he treasured, behind.

  Eric dipped his chin in acknowledgement, and raised a glass of orange juice.

  In that instant, David saw Eric and Trog. They had the same square jaw, the same eyes, only Eric’s were a darker green. The same build. While other features were different, there was no mistaking he was Trog’s son. He wished he could wrap his head around the fact Trog had a family. A son.

  Eric probably did, too.

  David eyed Slavandria as he pulled out a chair and sat down. So Lily had summoned her to help with the crystals. How sisterly. In the center of the table lay his bow and quiver, and Eric’s sword and scabbard. His stomach twisted. Their presence only meant one thing, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with playing the roles of archer and swordsman in a local Renaissance faire.

  Lily approached from behind and placed a hand on his back. “You might want to get something to eat. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Eric and Charlotte sat down across from him, their plates stacked with pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit. Lily poured coffee from an ornate silver coffee pot that had never seen the outside of a china cabinet, at least not since David could remember. It had been polished to a mirrored shine, their reflections distorted. Creepy. Like a funhouse mirror.

  He made his way to the buffet table and listened to the small talk behind him as he loaded his plate. Eric marveled at how strange but comfortable his clothes were, and how well he slept. Charlotte thanked Lily for the fresh squeezed orange juice and the change of clothes. But despite the laughter and lightness to the conversation, there was a palpable tension and unease that hung in the air like a thick, toxic fog. Breathe too deep, and one might die from the strain.

  There was no doubt this meeting was important. Slavandria’s presence made it so. He had to admit there was a part of him that craved the answers only she had, but how willing would she be to give up the knowledge? That was the grand question. He returned to his seat and picked up his fork.

  “I am happy to see the three of you are all right,” Slavandria said, her lavender hair shimmering in the sunlight from the window. “As you can see, I brought some items you left behind due to your rapid departure from Fallhollow.” Her gaze fell to the weapons on the table. She glanced to her left. “How are you feeling, Charlotte? Anything unusual going on?”

  Charlotte wiped her mouth and shook her head. “I’m fine. In fact, I was telling Eric this morning that I never felt better. Stronger almost. I am having some weird tingles shooting throughout my arms and legs which sometimes makes me shock people when I touch them, but when I talked to Lily before I went to bed last night, she said she’s pretty sure it’ll wear off.”

  Slavandria nodded, her eyes on Lily. “Yes, I agree. More than likely it’s a remnant of some leftover magic you came in contact with.”

  Charlotte dragged a piece of egg around on her plate with her fork. “I’m not too worried about it. Have you heard from Finn? Is he okay?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him,” Slavandria said, sipping her coffee. “By the time I arrived at the cottage, there was nothing left but a shell of a home. An indicium spell revealed an intense skirmish with the three of you being hurled out of there by a powerful expulso spell. Finn, Mirith, and Maggot vanished separately. I have yet to locate them, but sestras have an entire realm of magic I don’t understand. I can only hope they are safe.”

  Charlotte laid down her fork. “That makes me feel better.”

  David picked at the food on his plate. Why had Slavandria brought attention to Charlotte’s shocking side effects? And what was with the odd exchange of glances between Slavandria and Lily? Was there something more they weren’t revealing? It wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, he’d have to keep an eye on Charlotte. Maybe it was residual magic, but he didn’t think so. If only she remembered when it started.

  “Thank you for bringing our things to us,” David said, “but we all know that’s not why you’re here.” He gave Slavandria a flat stare. They sat in silence for a brief moment, the only sound that of knives and forks scraping over china.

  “No, it is not.” Slavandria leaned back in her chair. “However, Charlotte’s shocking health problem has my curiosity piqued. I
want to hear all about it as well as how you escaped the Elastine Forest.”

  Charlotte paused, her cheeks stuffed like a hamster’s. “Wha’?” She swallowed her food and gulped her juice.

  Eric’s eyes widened. A smile of disbelief lit his face. “Is that true? You escaped from the Elastine Forest?”

  Charlotte snorted. “You make it sound like I won the Noble Peace Prize.” She placed her napkin on the table and hunched over, her hands in her lap. “I didn’t do anything, really. It was Mirith. He was the one who got us out of there.”

  Slavandria leaned forward, her arms folded on the table. “Mirith was on the brink of death, weak and unresponsive. Queen Mysterie said she was struggling to hold onto hope until you came. She said it was you who saved them, but she could not shed any light on the mystery.”

  “I swear to you I didn’t do anything. It was Mirith. He blasted a hole in the invisible barrier around the forest.”

  “How, Charlotte? I must know every detail. Please don’t make me extract the information the hard way. I think you would find it most unpleasant.”

  Her threat jumped on David’s back and clung to his spine like an alien creature, its fingernails raking across David’s throat, choking his words. Surely, she must know she’d have to kill him first if she wished to bring any harm to Charlotte.

  “I’m telling you what I know. He popped his tail over his head and launched a lightning bolt.”

  “Think,” Lily said. “Tell us the story. Tell us what happened. Even down to the smallest detail you don’t think matters. It is an inescapable prison, protected by magic so dark, our own father cannot go near the wood’s edge without suffering severe nose and eye bleeds. Perhaps the secret of your escape will uncover Einar’s weakness.”