“You’re a liar,” Charlotte said, “and a fraud. I want nothing more to do with you. Come on, guys. Let’s go. I’ve heard enough.”
She stormed from the room toward the kitchen and her point of freedom.
“Einar must be stopped.” Aldamar’s voice quaked through David, splitting reality. “If he is not, he will punch through this world the way he did a century ago. I will not be able to stop it the next time.”
David cocked his head. “What are you talking about?”
“David, don’t listen to him,” Charlotte said. Her voice was tight, strapped with anger, denial, and betrayal.
“I have to listen to this,” David replied. “Please. Close the door and come back.”
Charlotte slammed the door and returned to the room. She leaned her shoulder against the wall.
David sat back in his chair, his arms crossed. “Talk, Mr. Stine, Aldamar, whoever you are. Tell us about Einar’s visit to this world.”
“I think it best if I show you.”
Eric
The old man opened his palm upward and blew across it. Over the table an expansive smoky image formed. Inside, people moved about in what looked to be a market. A building with arched, stained-glass windows appeared.
“Hey. That’s the church down the street from our school,” Charlotte said, sliding past Eric. “Why is everyone dressed funny?”
“Clothing was much different than it is today,” Aldamar began. “Modesty was in style, not just for one’s own respectfulness, but also for the benefit of wandering eyes as well.” He leaned forward and pointed to his temple. “I know I’ve seen things I wish I could unsee. Haven’t you?”
“Not to be rude,” David said, “but what’s the point of showing us this?”
“Do not be so impatient, my boy. To understand where you’re going, you must understand where you’ve been. During this time, Havendale was finding its roots upon which to grow. There wasn’t much to the town at the time: a church, a school, a bank, and a textile store. Few people had money, but the townspeople were content. Happy.”
Eric’s pulse set flight in his throat as odd shaped black cars puttered by in the projection. He reached out to touch them, but the image changed to one of a grand three-story building made of stone. On the outside of the building, a waterwheel turned. Inside, workers wiped away sweat as they dumped bags of grain into a hopper. The millstones rotated.
“That’s the gristmill!” David said. “The one in the woods behind my house, except it’s not destroyed.”
A twinge of familiarity tugged at Eric as he peered closer, taking in every wall, every window.
Aldamar nodded. “Yes, it is. Your family was one of the few that had wealth, brought on for the most part by that mill.”
Eric’s heart pumped faster as he watched, mesmerized, not so much by the process but by knowing he’d stood in that very room mere hours before. Funny how time had a way of changing perspectives.
“What happened to it?” Eric asked. “How did it fall into such disarray?”
“Einar. He destroyed just about everything in Havendale.”
David shared a glance with Charlotte. “How did Einar destroy anything in Havendale?”
“It was a tad more than a century ago. Hirth was in its glory. Trade was plentiful. All the kingdoms flourished, until Avida released the beast from his prison beneath Lake Sturtle. Vengeance was on his mind. He reclaimed Berg, destroyed what was left of Braemar, turning it into the smoldering ruins it is today, and then tried to take Hirth. A great battle broke out between the mages and the dragon, and warriors arrived every moment from Lesh.”
Charlotte wedged between Eric and David, her eyes pinned to the warring image in the brume. Her fingers curled around Eric’s. Her touch electrified his skin. His breath lodged in his lungs, refusing to leave. He was caught in a swirling vortex of confusion, desperate for her to let go, yet praying she never would.
“Look at all of them.” Her voice was soft. So soft. She covered her mouth with her other hand. One, two tears fell as Einar swooped down and plucked people from where they stood, their dead bodies falling from great heights to the ground. “They never had a chance.”
Eric squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”
A flash ripped across the conjured sky.
“Whoa! What was that?” David asked.
“Avida, ripping a hole between worlds.” Aldamar got up and moved toward the depiction. “I do not know if it was intentional. She may have been trying to seal the rift to keep more Numí from entering. Whatever the reason, the fabric between our world and yours ripped apart.”
All eyes were pinned to the brume. Not a sound hovered in the air. Not a breath could be heard.
The laceration spilled open, a wound spreading wider. Einar twisted his body around and soared through it, fire billowing from his mouth.
The scene shifted to a forest. A town. Terrified faces.
Fire.
So much fire.
The forest turned to ash. The gristmill hidden by flames. The town a raging inferno.
All except for the church.
A man and a woman emerged from the sanctuary. Eric squinted. “That’s you, Aldamar!”
“And Lily!” Charlotte shouted.
Magic—strong, bright, and powerful—shot from their palms, catching Einar in the chest. Each blast, each electrifying tendril from Lily’s and Aldamar’s hands pushed and shoved the beast. Relentless. Unyielding.
Eric held his breath. He’d heard tales of battles between the Numí and Einar, but he never believed them to be true. He glanced at the old man beside him and a shiver crawled up his spine. Aldamar was Jared’s father. Jared’s father. The two words sank in.
Powerful. Intense. Godly.
Talk about feeling small. Insignificant. A tiny speck in the universe.
Charlotte gasped and released his hand. “Yes!” she said.
Eric turned back to the brume. Einar tumbled through the rift. Aldamar swept his arms before him. Narrow, sharp beams of light shot from his hands, tracing the gaping wound. The tear stitched. The image disappeared.
“After Auruvalla and I repaired the damage, we did what we could to heal the town. There was so much devastation. For seven days, tumultuous rains fell, and with it came another ruination: floods. Then came the snow and we fled underground. The blizzard was unforgiving and cruel. Many who survived the fire perished in the aftermath.
“For two weeks, we remained isolated, and it was there we discovered something of great interest.” He wiggled his fingers and another projection appeared. Images of tunnels emerged within the fog. Lots and lots of tunnels.
“I knew where we were the instant we stumbled upon them.”
“The Opal Caverns,” David said, spellbound.
“Not exactly,” Aldamar replied, “but they did lead to them.”
Charlotte held up her hands. “Wait. Wait. Are you telling us there are mage tunnels beneath Havendale?”
Aldamar nodded.
“Where?” Eric asked. He tucked his hands in his armpits, suddenly aware of how much he’d begun to shake, his body fighting the maelstrom of excitement and emotions swirling within.
A large body of water appeared in the image. Frozen. Deserted. Branches, weighted with icicles, dipped to the ground. Wooden ramps jutted into the ice, their forms barely visible through the heavy snow.
“That’s Lake Sturtle,” David said. “I’d know it anywhere.”
The image shifted to a mammoth cave, its walls smooth from constant wear. Bones lay strewn over the damp earthen floor. Thin, transparent capes fluttered in ripped chunks from the ceiling and walls. Eric leaned forward.
“That’s dragon skin.”
Aldamar nodded.
“Einar’s lair,” David said. He looked at Aldamar, his eyes wide. “Seyekrad’s using the tunnels.”
The man dismissed the image from th
e air. “Can you surmise why?”
Another riddle. Eric’s brain whirred, the meaning becoming clearer by the second. “The crystals. He’s hiding them in the lair.” He exhaled a whistle. “Dragon’s breath!” He turned to Aldamar, his heart racing. “You’ve got to get us in there. You have to open us a portal.”
Aldamar shook his head. “I cannot do that.”
“Why not? You’re a Numí.”
Aldamar chuckled and shook his head. “If only that were enough. Truth be told, dear boy, my powers have been used to anchor this world, to prohibit the rift from re-opening, even the slightest use of magic elsewhere threatens the stability of the tear.”
“Hold on a minute,” David said. “Back up the truck. Are you telling us you’ve been here, in our world, for over a hundred years?”
The old man nodded.
“You haven’t been home, you haven’t seen your son, your family, in a hundred years?”
“No, I have not.”
“What the—that’s crazy! Why would you do that? I wasn’t even born then. Heck, I wasn’t even a thought.”
“Auruvalla—Lily—and I decided to stay behind to protect this world. There was something about it that my precious granddaughter fell in love with. She wasn’t strong enough to hold the rift together, so I chose to stay with her.”
“Knowing you’d never be able to go home,” Eric said.
“I couldn’t leave my precious Lily. She didn’t want to return to Fallhollow. She felt her calling was here. What was I to do?”
Eric shook his head. What was it with people voluntarily giving the ultimate sacrifice? Trog, Charlotte’s brother, now Aldamar and Lily. Unselfish deeds, knowing the pain it would cause them if they followed through. Could he do such a thing if needed? He wasn’t sure. He liked living too much.
Aldamar continued, breaking Eric’s thoughts. “In time, my powers will leave me all together and I will no longer be able to protect this world. The threads will unravel. The rift will open, and nothing will stop Einar from entering. I will die, and he will shed his title of King and become God.”
Eric stood and stared the old man in the eye. “Not if I have anything to say about it. We must get the crystals. We must destroy him, and then we can ferry you back to Fallhollow.”
“There will be no ferrying for me, young Eric,” Aldamar said. “Even Numí die, even if it takes us seven hundred years and a few more.”
Eric’s stomach left his body. “Seven hundred years! That would mean Jared is—”
“Five hundred plus. Slavandria and Lily, two hundred and a few.”
Eric gulped. His mind twisted and knotted. How could someone live that long? It was impossible. Even for a mage.
“Guys,” Charlotte said, snapping Eric from his thoughts. “I think we’re forgetting what we came here for. We need to find the crystals and take them to Slavandria so she can open the tunnels. Then we can rescue Garret, Gertie, and Twiller’s family. That’s all. We’re not going off on some whacked out dragon-killing quest.”
“Slavandria cannot have control of the crystals,” Aldamar said. “They must be destroyed.”
“What? Why?” Charlotte asked.
“Because if Slavandria uses them to open the tunnels, she will also open them to whatever evil the Dragon King has enlisted. The demons that will enter Fallhollow are far beyond any you can fathom. While she will try to use them for good, all that is malevolent and vile will spread and triumph in its desire. It must not be permitted. Do you hear me?”
Eric kept his face blank, willed his heart to stay calm. He rubbed a hand down his face. “So what are we supposed to do?”
A clock chimed in the house. Aldamar pressed a hand to Eric’s shoulder. “Be patient. When the time is right, Einar will get everything he deserves and more, including a few F-22 Raptors.” The man winked at him.
Eric’s stomach dropped and his limbs grew cold. “Y-you heard me … us?”
“I am a Numí. I hear all.” He turned away. “Even things I would not like to hear.”
Eric stood there, numb. He couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. He hated the idea of this man, this warrior Numí god, being able to hear his every thought. After all, some were meant to be private. He glanced at Charlotte.
Very private.
“Wait,” David shouted. “Where, how are you going to get some F-22 Raptors? Conjure them out of thin air?”
The old man laughed. “Oh, I have no intentions of getting them for you.”
“Then how are we supposed to get them?”
Aldamar smiled. “Perhaps you should ask the man behind you.”
They followed his gaze and turned toward the front door.
Charlotte stood still as a statue, her face solid as stone.
“Daddy?”
David
David stood in shock as Mr. Stine swept Charlotte in his arms and held her tight. He kissed the top of her head and tears rolled down his cheeks. She buried her face in his neck and her sobs could be heard across the universe.
“My baby. My sweet baby girl. Where have you been? Your mother and I have been worried sick about you.”
Charlotte wiped her tears. She was visibly shaken. “It’s a long story. In fact, I don’t even think you’d believe me.” She looked up at him and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. David handed her a box of tissues from the end table. She plucked a few and tossed the box on the couch.
“Try me,” Mr. Stine said, cupping her face in his hands. The joy in his eyes tugged a knot in David’s throat.
Is this how his parents would feel seeing him after almost seventeen years? He couldn’t even imagine meeting his parents for the first time. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would.
Charlotte touched her father’s face. “Maybe. In time.” She avoided his gaze and inched into her seat on the couch. “What are you doing here? What did,” she flicked a side glance at Aldamar, “Grampa mean about you getting some planes?”
Mr. Stine sat on the couch. “Pops called me and told me to get here right away. Said it was urgent.” His voice quivered. “I thought something was wrong. I never dreamed I’d find you here.” He fixed his eyes on her, took her hands in his. “But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come home?”
“I couldn’t, Daddy,” Charlotte said. She pinned her hands beneath her thighs. “There were all those cops, and I didn’t want to answer all their questions. Besides, I’m not planning on staying, so I didn’t want to get you and Mom all teary and happy only to leave again. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
David stiffened, his eyes on her face. Why did she have to be so difficult? She had to stay with her family. Give up the idea of chasing dragons and taking part in harrowing rescues. He had to somehow convince her without her getting all pissed off. Maybe Eric could help. She’d listen to him.
He flicked a glance at Eric, who stood leaning against a wall, his eyes ever watchful of everything going on. His insides fluttered and flipped. Damn. He couldn’t get over how much Eric looked like Trog. So much so it scared him.
Mr. Stine raised his voice. “David!”
David startled and faced Charlotte’s father. Gah, how he hated that inquisitorial look the man always had in his eyes when he looked at him.
“What is she talking about? Why can’t she stay? What have you gotten her into?”
“Daddy, leave David—”
“Quiet, young lady. This is between me and this young man here.” He stood, squared his shoulders.
David stiffened. Don’t let him intimidate you. “I haven’t gotten her into anything except maybe a war with a dragon, and a sorcerer who wants to kill me.”
Charlotte’s dad balled his hands into fists. “Don’t get flippant with me, young man.”
“Daddy!” Charlotte jumped from the couch. “I love you but I will not stand here and let you pick on him. He’s doesn’t deserve your anger, and I won’t put up with you treating him li
ke he was last week’s garbage.”
David kicked at the ground, his expression blank, but inside, he was floating to the moon. Charlotte defended him. That was better than vanilla ice cream on top a slice of hot apple pie and that was saying a lot.
Mr. Stine snorted and wagged his finger. “Wait. Wait. I get it now. You’re pregnant. You went off somewhere to figure out how to take care of it, and you were too afraid to face me and your mother.”
Aldamar shook his head. “Frank.”
David snorted. If he’d been drinking milk, it would have come out of his nose.
Charlotte’s mouth hung open. “What? Are you crazy? I can’t even believe you just said that. No! I’m not pregnant.” She threw her hands in the air. “Gaah.”
Eric straightened. “Sir, I must object to this interrogation. One, it is of a private nature, and two, I can assure you that your daughter and David have an impeccable relationship, one of mutual respect, appreciation, and distance.”
David’s chest rose and fell, his thoughts on a time in Chalisdawn where his and Charlotte’s distance was a bit too close—where the topic at hand might be one that needed discussing. Thank the bejeebie beans he averted that gaffe. Mr. Stine sneered at Eric and snapped back. “Who are you?”
“My name is Eric Hamden, sir.” He folded in a bow.
David smirked. “Good grief. Stand up. Geez.” He shook his head and caught Mr. Stine’s eye. “He’s not from around here.”
Mr. Stine raised an eyebrow. “And where are you from?”
Charlotte jumped in. “He’s from—”
Her father shot her the look. “I didn’t ask you.”
“It’s all right, Charlotte.” Eric smiled. “I’m from Fallhollow, sir,” Eric answered. “It’s very far from here. I doubt you have heard of it.”
“No, I can’t say that I have. How did you hook up with these two runaways who seem to have such little regard for their families and the town that’s worried sick about them?”
“Daddy, please.”
Eric stepped forward. “You underestimate us, sir, and if you truly believe what you just said, then it is my belief you are the one who lacks regard for your daughter. She loves you and adores you. Just because she is following her heart at the moment does not mean she has lost her respect for you. It merely means she is finding some for herself. Now, if you will excuse me, I am feeling a bit on edge. David, if I might have the keys to your car?”
Rage of the Dragon King Page 17