by Debra Kristi
With a sigh, Sebastian rolled off his side and checked the perimeter. No Reapers nearby. Thank you, Mystic’s. His muscles relaxed, but his heart still ached a thousand dragon jabs to its core.
“You gonna come up here and talk to me, or sit on the grass all day?” Zeke said, nudging Sebastian with the end of his cane.
After Sebastian’s run-in with his father, Zeke was a welcome relief. Sebastian let out a soft laugh, a touch of madness evident in the refrain, and stood. “I’m getting there, old man. Don’t have a blowdown.” Acting confident and assured on the surface, Sebastian took a seat beside Zeke, but inside, it was as if Sebastian’s tents had been blown down, and he had no clue how to repair the damage, or if it was even repairable.
A snort. A cough. Then Zeke elbowed Sebastian. “You don’t need to pretend with me. I know your heart, and it doesn’t match the show you’re puttin’ on.”
Crossing his arms across his chest, Sebastian pressed into his chest with the heel of his palm. Pressed hard where his heart should be, only it had been clawed out by Kalrapura, or possibly gnawed up and devoured.
Not to be deterred by the silence, Zeke dropped his hand upon Sebastian’s leg and delivered a firm pat. “You’re hurting, son. Shall we talk about why?” He tilted his ear to better hear Sebastian’s answer.
Sebastian presumed that was why the carnival had brought him here, to talk to Zeke. He was searching for a magical resolution, and he prayed Zeke would be the key. The one to deliver a miracle. But now that he was here, with the ravaged mess laid out before him, he had no words. His throat squeezed tight. Sebastian shook his head and scratched his neck. “I don’t even know where to start.”
With a nod and a comforting grin, Zeke sat back and placed both hands on the handle of his cane. “When one is overwhelmed or confused, sometimes starting at the beginning is the best.”
Sebastian peered down and nodded, and then began, spilling forth every detail of his adventure since Zeke had charged him with the deed of finding Bolsvck and the dagger. Plus a few earlier events he’d neglected to mention before, but now thought may be of significance. He told Zeke about the deal he’d made with the Gatekeeper, and the horrid things Marcus had done. He talked about Davies’s company of soldiers, and the death of the man’s daughters. He even mentioned the visit he’d had from the Mara. He talked until his throat was dry and body, numb. So much information poured forth, he could have talked for days, but in actuality it was probably more in the minutes range.
Sebastian sighed and leaned over his knees. “And now I have Kyra’s dragon inside of me, and I need to figure out how to get her back to Kyra.” He stared at his clasped hands, played a thumb war.
“But you already know the how, don’t you?” Zeke said and stared with his blind eyes out at the carnival entrance.
Sebastian cradled his face in his hands. If he could have sunk any lower, he just might have. “If I am to believe what the carousel showed me, yes,” he said, his tone morose and full of bitterness.
“No reason exists for the carousel to show you lies. You should believe,” Zeke said.
Fury and frustration coursed through Sebastian, straightening his spine. “I don’t understand. The ride, the magical…” He waved his hand in the air before him, searching for the right word. “…process was about getting her memories back. It shouldn’t have had anything to do with me.”
Zeke patted Sebastian’s leg once more. “That’s where you are wrong, my dear boy. The whole ordeal was about who Kyra is today, yesterday, and tomorrow, and a hundred or more tomorrows beyond that. That’s where you come in.” Zeke pointed his finger at Sebastian, a mild tremor in the motion. “You hold the key to her future. It is for that reason the carousel showed you what it did.”
All of Sebastian’s hope and energy deflated. “There’s no other way?”
“None known,” Zeke said solemnly.
“So…in order to return Kalrapura to Kyra, I have to die? Literally shish kabob myself with that strange looking dagger-thing?”
“I’m sorry, son.” Zeke wrapped his arm around Sebastian and hugged him to his side. “I only have this to give you.” With his free hand, Zeke placed a folded piece of paper in Sebastian’s palm then closed his hand around it. “In your darkest moment, find the answer to the question you did not know you were asking.”
A frown formed in the space between Sebastian’s eyes. A riddle was not what he needed nor wanted right now. He unfolded the paper and stared at the ink scribbled upon it. Zeke wanted him to find the tent of Magical Bibelots. One item in particular. Thankfully he had Zeke’s expert scribble drawing to help him find it. The tent was tucked away deep within the carnival, never easy to find. Mystic’s liked to play hide-n-seek with that particular destination. But he could find the place; it was the item he questioned. With all its spikes and claws, it didn’t appear extremely friendly.
It was astonishing how cold he could feel with a Fire Dragon renting space in his soul. His chill plummeted past Death’s touch. He hadn’t thought he could feel any worse about the situation. He’d been wrong. Remove all hope, and he could feel far worse.
And then Kalrapura twisted and spiraled inside his core, roaring for all the kingdoms and realms to hear. Or maybe it was just for his benefit, Sebastian wasn’t sure. But in that instant, he knew. Knew what the dragon was saying.
He stood with the abruptness of a killer’s surprise attack. He turned, barely, to face Zeke. Every muscle, tendon, and neuron snapped with needed excitement. “Kyra’s in trouble.”
10
CHILLED
Kyra
“So cold.” Kyra’s words escaped through chattering teeth. She imagined ice on her lashes and her breath morphing into puffs of smoke. As cold as she was, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she mirrored a frost giant, minus the size. A flurry of activity kept her from slipping into a place of peace.
“Look at me, girl,” her father demanded. A soft moan was her response. “Don’t sleep.” His strong hands pressed against her skin, grabbed her arms, rattled her whole body with vigorous shakes.
“Stop it,” she said, letting her head loll from side to side. She couldn’t remember where she was, or how long she’d been there. Someone, not her father, tried to wrap a blanket around her. Her eyes fluttered open. Queen Shui kneeled close, pressing the cover to Kyra’s skin, rubbing. The blanket was her own, taken from her bed. Behind her mother, stretched out like a theater backdrop, was her trailer. She was home. “Did you go into my trailer?” her voice hitched, if only slightly.
“Sweet child,” her mother began.
Kyra’s hand flailed weakly at her mother. “Don’t, Mom.” She tried to push away from her father, but he kept a strong hold on her. “It may not be much—” Her voice cracked. “But what’s here is mine.” Her hand grasped at her mom. “Understand? Mine.”
“We’re not trying to take anything from you, child,” Bolsvck said. He cupped her hand in his and blew fire-rich warmth upon her. Kyra closed her eyes. “Shui, start a fire to raise her temperature.”
Her mother’s footsteps moved away, and her father lifted her in his arms, began carrying her. Shivers and shudders rocked through her body, and she curled into his chest. It was like snuggling against a furnace.
Incomprehensible voices reverberated through her head. She pressed into her skull, wishing the pain to stop. “Get him out of here,” Bolsvck boomed, his chest undulating the tones to sharp stabs in her brain.
Kyra sank deeper into Bolsvck’s chest, yet turned to see what the fuss was about. She couldn’t imagine her father being upset by Drakhögg’s presence. Ryhuu, maybe, but not the man her father so heavy-handedly pushed her to marry. Neither stood before them, and she was thankful not to have to face them.
Instead, it was Sebastian. He and Queen Shui stood several yards away, heads together and arguing.
He came back. Her heart leaped, and she clutched her father’s arm, her eyes silently pleading with him to let her stan
d on her own two feet. He ignored her plea and held her tight.
“Bolsvck,” Queen Shui said, turning from her heated discussion with Sebastian.
Bolsvck didn’t respond. His silence rumbled through his chest like a fury barely contained. With a pinched brow, he listened.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” she said, “this boy does make some sense.”
A disgruntled roar rolled deep within Bolsvck’s body. With it, more heat seeped from his skin, enveloping Kyra. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. For once, just do as I suggest.” Queen Shui straightened her spine.
Sebastian’s gaze met Kyra’s, and as thrilled and happy as she was to see him, he appeared quite the opposite. The cold intensified, turning her insides to ice. If it were possible for her to drop to a deeper low, she didn’t see how. In that moment, she was every bit a dragonling clinging to her father for protection. Protection against heartache. With each advancing step Sebastian made, her heart clenched tighter.
Bolsvck took a step back, away from Sebastian.
“Bolsvck, please. For our daughter,” Queen Shui said.
“What does he want?” Kyra whispered to her father, then faced Sebastian. “Sebastian?” He stood before her now, so close she could almost reach out and touch him. Part of her wanted to do exactly that. At the same time, fear held her back. Irritating fear. She didn’t remember ever being intimidated when it came to relationships. She was strong. She was dragon.
With outstretched arms, Sebastian motioned Bolsvck to transfer Kyra to his hold. “Please, sir.” Sebastian spared Kyra a glance. “I can feel Kalrapura inside me, and she wants to be with Kyra, to help warm her.” He slapped his arm. “See this? This is what she needs.”
Kyra stared at the marking he pointed to. She didn’t recall ever seeing it before. Like a tattoo, but etched in white rather than black, and it resembled a watch or compass. “What is that?” Bolsvck said, speaking Kyra’s thought.
“It’s a bit of magic I recently received. It guides me to things I desperately seek.” He glanced at his hand. “In this case, it’s what Kyra needs right now. As you can see, the arrow is pointing back at me.” He twisted his arm, and the little hand swung and spun then landed back in place, pointing directly at Sebastian. He grimaced at Bolsvck. “The compass isn’t pointing at me. It’s pointing at Kalrapura.” Sebastian’s arms jolted. “Honestly.”
Bolsvck grumbled and released Kyra to Sebastian, a deathly serious warning in his eyes. “This is my daughter, and you are not one of us. You watch yourself, boy.”
“Of course, sir.” Sebastian bundled Kyra in his arms and held her tight. She’d considered her father a comfortable warm fire when she’d nestled into him. Sebastian put out far more heat, and she couldn’t get close enough or warm enough. She wanted more, so much more. She buried her face in his chest. “It will be okay, Kyra. I’ve got you now. I’m going to fix you,” he whispered at her ear.
She didn’t like to think of herself as broken, but if anyone were to tend to her less-than-perfect nature, she wanted it to be Sebastian. Besides, if she were honest with herself, she was broken, and in desperate need of fixing. She was one of two pieces torn apart, and in order for the world to be right again, those pieces needed to be glued back together. “All right,” she said into his chest.
Sebastian’s grip tightened, and he pulled her closer. “I need to employ a little help from our resident witch. Will you allow it?” he asked of her parents.
Queen Shui’s hand fluttered up. “I don’t care much for witches.”
“The fewer involved in the matter, the better,” Bolsvck said.
“Maybe so, but you have this particular witch to thank for Kyra’s returned memories. I believe she will be able to help with the return of Kalrapura, and in raising Kyra’s temperature until that happens.” Sebastian shifted to better view both parents, who stood at far ends of Kyra’s non-existent front patio.
“Is this witch a female?” Bolsvck narrowed his glare on Sebastian.
“She is. At present, we have no warlocks working at Mystic’s.”
“I will allow it,” Queen Shui interjected.
“Shui.” Bolsvck’s voice boomed, and his eyes sparked when he turned his glare upon her.
“Shut it, Bolsvck. This is for Kyra. Curb your overprotective nature for now.” Queen Shui jammed her finger at him in an accusatory manner. Peace ceased to exist after that. The quarrelsome pair attacked each other with every hurtful word they could dig from their internal dictionaries. Kyra and Sebastian appeared to be temporarily forgotten, and so Sebastian slinked away unnoticed, Kyra still in his arms. Kyra spied over Sebastian’s shoulder as they left the Backyard. Watched her parents fade into the scenery.
Sebastian moved quickly through the carnival, and Kyra watched familiar faces and places move by. From the Backyard, where she and so many other carnies lived, through the Fun Zone and gaming area, toward Mystic’s Magical Market he pushed. Talia’s trailer sat among the many mystics and readers setting up shop at the carnival.
“Do you really think she can help me?” Kyra studied his face. He appeared tired, stressed, and bothered. And he didn’t look at her, but kept his attention on their path.
“I hope so.”
Kyra bit her lip and stared out at the glare and sparkle created by the lights from all the rides. In the distance, a small peek at the carousel. The very place the two of them had shared a magical moment she’d thought was the beginning of something precious. Perfect and predestined. Until he’d shattered the magic, and their everything. Beyond, ribbons of lights changing color in a mesmerizing manner, the overseeing Ferris wheel spun. Silly as it was, the magical, mechanical beast bloomed hope in her heart. If only they could ride it together to the top, maybe he’d drop the stubborn act and they could get back to what they used to be, get beyond whatever was influencing Sebastian. There was nothing like the magic of a good old-fashioned carnie marriage, or so she’d been told.
And then the Ferris wheel was a mere bleep in the distance, and Sebastian was rushing down Mystic’s Magical Market lane. Fortunetellers of every type lined the sides. She knew the place well, having come here many times to visit Sebastian at his little trailer of tarot cards.
“Talia,” Sebastian called out when he was nearing the witch’s den of crystal ball gazing. “Are you there, Talia? We need your help.” He shifted Kyra in his arms.
“I can walk,” she said in a small voice.
“Maybe so, but you don’t have to.” Sebastian glanced at her and smiled. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, nor light up his face, as she knew his heartfelt smiles could. A dark fog misted through her chest, and her chilled bones iced. She tightened her clasp around his neck to fight the dread overtaking her soul.
Garnished with countless strings of colorful buttons, charms, and trinkets, the entrance to Talia’s tent was both eccentric and mysterious. The design encouraged further exploration. When they were only steps away, the drapery pulled back, exposing a portal into a delightfully unexpected space. Not that it was truly a portal, as in a magical door, but what lay beyond the entrance was enchantingly otherworldly. Talia, the young witch, stood at the edge of the entrance, holding the fabric out of the way. Sebastian slipped into the tent and turned around.
Kyra had passed by Talia’s tent on several occasions, but had never bothered to go inside. A miraculous and surreal world of magic lived inside the tent walls. Once they walked through the door, the ceiling seemed to evaporate, leaving only the night sky, complete with twinkling stars, above their heads.
The sidewalls were no different, appearing as a forest one could wander into and get lost. At the far corner of the tent, rocketing fireworks lit up the sky. They were subdued, yet completely perfect in the meager, wonderlit arena. Kyra assumed the celebration display was designed to coordinate with the Mystic’s Jubilee, but she couldn’t be certain. Maybe it was always like this.
In the center of the space, which resemble
d a small grass clearing in the middle of the whimsical tent forest, sat a small collection of wooden chairs gathered unevenly around a purple velvet-covered table with a large crystal ball in the middle. Kyra knew everything around her, aside from the table and chairs, was an illusion. Logic reminded her they weren’t in the middle of any forest but were actually standing somewhere in the middle of Mystic’s Carnival. For such a small and young witch, the magic was supreme.
“What’s going on?” Talia asked, letting the colorful bangles at the door drop back into place.
“Kyra is freezing. We need to reunite her with her dragon as soon as possible.” Sebastian paused and glanced to the chairs by the table. Using his foot, he scooted one away from the table.
“Not there,” Talia interrupted and pointed toward the back of the tent. “Through there.”
Sebastian walked into the tree line, and for the briefest of moments, they were standing in the forest, mammoth redwoods stretching as far as the eye could see—and then they weren’t. They had entered a backroom. A room hidden from Talia’s clientele. Against one striped tent wall was an unremarkable bed and a rack filled with clothing and costumes. On the other side of the room, behind a shimmering, sheer curtain, were bottles and boxes of various colors and sizes. Some were stacked on a table or stool, others hung from the ceiling in a cluster of designs: spirals, pyramids, and extended drops of baskets.
“Over there.” Talia pointed to the bed. Sebastian promptly set Kyra on the mattress, pulling the blanket up around her. It resembled a story blanket, likely Talia’s story. Square after square of stitched pictures depicting things Kyra only half recognized.
“Thank you,” Kyra said, hugging the blanket snuggly around her body. Sebastian sat on the bed beside her and attempted to rub warmth back into her.
In quick movements, Talia threw back the shimmery curtain and began grabbing at bottles. “You want me to mix something up that will help keep her warm, right?”