The Dragon King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  But the scraping of the lid had been plenty of noise, and rest she still did, dead to the waking world and all who moved within it.

  The Entity closed his black eyes and began to speak. Then Arach watched the man tip the vial in his right hand. A single drop of Evangeline’s blood fell from the rim of the vial as if in slow motion. It shimmered in a shaft of light before it landed on Amunet’s lips and slipped into her mouth. Arach found he was holding his breath.

  The Entity continued to speak. His words were incomprehensible, even to one as old as Arach, and despite the numerous languages he could speak. At first, the words were whispers, inflected with a slight voice that barely carried to Arach. But little by little, the whispers grew. They seemed to stretch, filling up the corners of the ruined building to meld with the shadows. They gained dimension, and Arach not only heard them clearly now, but felt them. Like static along the skin.

  The hairs on his arms lifted, and the back of his neck pricked. Warning bells went off in his head. But the Entity’s words were in there now too, and they drowned out the warning sounds. They were bigger. They were more powerful.

  It took a moment for Arach to realize that the ground beneath his feet was vibrating. Either northern California was once more experiencing a mild earthquake – or this was the Entity’s doing.

  Now Arach’s mind told him firmly: Leave.

  Get out.

  But he was held rapt, his attention glued to the sleeping figure in the sarcophagus as a second drop of blood slipped into the waiting goddess’s mouth. The ground shook with more fervor. Evil was a shaky thing.

  Pieces of the already crumbling edifice around him broke free from the walls and tumbled to the ground. The whispers began to spin, to swim in the air, now as visible as spirits or restless ghosts.

  Arach gazed, transfixed in terror and fascination, as Amunet’s eyes opened.

  Chapter Five

  Korridum, now known as Calidum to his compatriots and Cal to his friends, sensed a buzzing in the air. He glanced at the transport portal walls. They rippled.

  He’d just finished taking the young red dragon back to her relatives and was mid-transport to Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. But, as his favorite character from Star Wars would say, he sensed a disturbance in the Force.

  He pulled the transport up short. As far as he knew, he was the only one currently on the planet who could do such a thing, not that anyone was aware. Except perhaps Evangeline. She was smart. So very smart. No doubt she would figure out all of his secrets in short order.

  The portal fattened into a wider worm-like hole, shortened before Calidum, and then opened to let him out. He stepped from its bowels with graceful ease, willing the portal shut behind him with nothing more than a passing thought. Deep charcoal gray armor wrapped like falling dominoes around his form, covering him inch by inch in a protective barrier of leather, scaled and dark as shadow. His shoulder-length hair shifted to pitch black but for a single snow-white stripe that began just above his left ear.

  His once brown eyes darkened, taking on the secrets and the unknown. They became the twilight between now and later, the mystery between here and there. And they they lit on fire, exploding to flame like a charcoal grill under the influence of lighter fluid. It was a white fire, devoid of the warmth of color, but raging with white-hot fuel. His flickering gaze, mesmerizing and powerful, moved over the darkness in the parking garage.

  He’d been careful to open the portal in an unpopulated area, which was easy for him since he could sense humanity without having to see, hear, or in most cases, smell it. He estimated that he’d pulled the portal open somewhere between Pier 20 and 30, just short of where he could also sense his queen.

  Something was wrong with Eva too. He could feel her fear, prickling at him even from this distance. He’d always been able to tell when something was amiss with Evangeline.

  But at the moment, though he appeared to be the only living being in the garage, he knew he wasn’t. He was not alone. What was more troubling to him was that he had no idea who or what was in the garage with him.

  Hence the armor.

  “Macleod,” came the spoken name from behind him.

  Cal processed the tone of voice, the name, and way the name was spoken, and then suddenly he was almost smiling. Almost. Because there were still questions.

  He turned slowly to face his old friend. “Fasil,” he said, affecting a Connor Macleod accent from Highlander. “Wait.”

  William Balthazar Solan smiled a breathtaking smile, white and straight and charming as hell. His tall frame stepped from the shadows, and a shaft of setting sun struck the piercing emerald of his eyes. “You look good,” said William. “In your own skin, that is. And I hear congratulations are in order.” He grinned now. “You made king.”

  “And you made outlaw.”

  William raised a brow, but his smile stayed put.

  “I’m just wondering now,” continued Cal, “whether you gained the rank accidentally… or very much on purpose.” He was ninety-seven percent sure he knew the answer. William Solan was a good friend and had been for a long time. But Calidum knew Will had been a friend to a lot of people. Word was he was close to The Winter King. And Cal knew that William had a personal relationship of some great importance with the Shifter King. And then of course there was D’Angelo. Roman knew everyone at the table to some degree. So there was a part of Cal that wondered. Because an intelligent criminal would make it a point to befriend as many of his enemies as possible. And William Solan was a very smart man.

  William chuckled. It was a clear and deep sound, but to dragon ears, it was different, too. It was almost as if somewhere in there, the tick of a clock laced the vibrations of his voice.

  “I don’t do anything accidentally,” said William. And that was probably true. “Perhaps a more appropriate question would be, ‘Is this something I’ve done?’”

  Calidum lifted his head. He waited. But William was no more forthcoming. Finally, Cal had to ask. “Is it, William?”

  The Time King laughed again. “What do you believe, Dragon King?”

  “I believe it’s something that Arach has done,” Cal admitted frankly with a sigh.

  William’s smile grew more serene, and an expression resembling pride flickered in his eyes. “You’ve got good instincts. But I knew that already.”

  Calidum would not have been able to accurately describe the relief he felt in that moment. To know that one of his closest friends was not the Traitor was priceless. And that level of relief alone told Cal that the friendship was real. “It has nothing to do with instincts,” he said. “And everything to do with the fact that Arach is a bigoted, backwards prick. But a smart bigoted, backwards prick.”

  “Aye, there’s the rub that make a Traitor of so long a prick,” joked William with a touch of Shakespeare.

  Calidum would have laughed, but Eva was a few piers away, and it was taking a good amount of effort for him to stay where he was rather than go to her. “Why am I here, William? What is happening?”

  “You’re here because you can sense it. And I’m here because I knew you would.”

  “Something has happened,” said Cal. He frowned. “But the Entity is supposed to be dead.”

  “Not everything that is supposed to be… is.” William stepped forward again, the leather soles of his shoes resounding solidly in the otherwise empty garage. “The Entity is very much alive. And so is his queen.”

  “The goddess….” Cal closed his eyes as dark realization washed over him. “She’s awake.” Riding hot on the tail of his first realization was an even worse one. Because he knew how she’d been awakened.

  “Or waking, rather,” said William. “The process will no doubt take some time. But as she convalesces once more into the real world, the Entity isn’t finished with Evangeline, either. He’ll be coming for her.”

  Cal’s eyes flew open, and he felt their fires heat up. “Why?” he asked. But he knew the answer.


  “Because,” said William as he pulled a gold pocket watch from an inner pocket of his jacket and pressed the release switch that popped the case open. “A promise is a promise,” he finished. Then he glanced up. “Especially for a Nomad.”

  Chapter Six

  Dragons had voracious appetites. Not only for food, either. But right now, it was food Evangeline needed. Her metabolism was fast, and if she didn’t keep up with it, she would feel it. Dragons referred to this feeling as “dragangry.” Of course, that was a fairly new term.

  Despite the fact that she’d just met her worst enemy and was fated to marry the beautiful bastard, Eva was in the process of purchasing a number of peanut butter protein bars from Biscoff on Pier 39 when she was overcome with a sudden sense of dread. And this one had nothing to do with the new Dragon King.

  It was a little like realizing you’d left the iron or oven on at home when you were already two days into your vacation. It was that sense of reaching up to touch your favorite pendant, and touching nothing but tee-shirt instead. It was the sudden knowledge that something was wrong – really wrong – and it was too late to do anything about it.

  Mimi had already gone home, escorted by Calidum with a transport spell. Eva suspected the Dragon King knew how to transport without any kind of spell; she suspected he knew how to do a lot of things no one knew about. But he was not only the new sovereign, he was Mimi’s teacher, so he played things by the book and made sure she learned along the way.

  And he’s hiding, thought Eva. There was that too. He was a wanted man and had been for thousands of years. And no one in this realm had the slightest clue.

  But right now, in this very moment, that didn’t matter. Because right now, the world was coming to an end. She was sure of it. That was how it felt.

  “Miss?” the woman behind the counter called, attempting to get Eva’s attention. She held a bag up in one hand. It was filled with the six peanut butter bars. Eva had purchased every single one in the case. The grease from the bars was already beginning to stain the bottom of the bag in widening dark spots. Her stomach growled.

  But something was so very, very wrong.

  She took the bag mechanically, smiling and thanking the woman before turning to make her way out of the small, busy shop. Native San Franciscans came to Pier 39 for things like lunch at Boudin Bakery or drinks at the Wipeout Bar and Grill, or just to see the Sea Lions. Tourists came for all three, plus shopping. But more than anything, a trip to Pier 39 was a sensory experience and even people who lived in the City by the Bay never really tired of the atmosphere.

  There was always a musician of exceptional skill at the entrance to the pier, setting the stage so that it felt, from the moment you stepped onto the boardwalk, that you were in a movie from the past. The air was always filled with the dichotomy of delicious scents from the crepe vendor, Boudin Bakery, Biscoff coffee, and a number of restaurants – contrasted with the overripe smell of sea lions and rotting fish. The carousel was almost always turning, its bright and beautiful lights and larger-than-life animals setting what felt like the whole world in motion.

  Dragons liked beautiful things. They were drawn to them. And Evangeline very much liked Pier 39.

  Since the invention of the camera phone, it had become increasingly difficult to tell tourists apart from natives; no one carried massive analogs any longer, those around-the-neck behemoths that labeled a newcomer on sight. Here, as in most bustling places now, people from near and far mixed and mingled on the boardwalk, a movement of color and noise not unlike a human river. She stepped into the flow and followed the lead to the right, taking the boardwalk past Boudin’s, the Musical Stairs, the Mirror Maze, the 7D Experience and world famous carousel, all the way to the end, where it lowered a few steps to an observation deck overlooking the bay. In the distance was Alcatraz Island, and beyond that were the sailboats and many crafts of bay tours.

  Eva chose an empty space beside a coin operated viewing machine and grasped the wooden railing before closing her eyes. In her mind, the world spun. She saw images, flashes, and heard voices. One of them sounded an awful lot like her. Screaming for help.

  “Eva.”

  Evangeline’s eyes flew open. Her pupils dilated, and she spun, recognizing not only the voice, but the feel of him at once. Only now, he looked nothing like the Calidum he’d been just a few minutes earlier.

  “Korridum,” she whispered.

  He didn’t smile this time. And the seriousness of his visage equaled the stark handsomeness of it. He was a six and a half foot tower of dark beauty, from the dark jeans and charcoal leather jacket to the black hair but for its single white stripe. His eyes were black, but she knew they could change. And his face was that of a fallen angel.

  People around them stole glances in their direction. Eva could feel their stares. They’d already been looking at her, but she was used to that. Now the Dragon King was standing in front of her in most of his natural beauty, and the combination was clearly too much for humans to take. They were curious. Who were these two? Actors? Models? Was someone filming? Certainly they weren’t from around here….

  The bitch of it was, he was holding back. There were so many aspects he wasn’t allowing to show. And in his true true form? The massive beast he could become would fill the pier from end to end.

  “You aren’t safe here, Eva.” He didn’t move. But Evangeline knew he could. So fast that he would appear to blur from one location to the next. “We need to leave at once.”

  Evangeline could have said a hundred spiteful, acid-tongued things in that moment. But she was still pulsing with warning deep inside, and it was an un-ignorable kind of warning – and she knew he was right. And that was a bitch of a thing too.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady so the onlookers wouldn’t overhear.

  “Amunet has been revived.”

  Eva’s breath stilled in her lungs. A prickle of sensation moved along her abdomen, following the tight white line of her on-again, off-again scar. She touched it absently and paled. Questions were bullied by answers in her head, barely a step ahead of their hard fists of truth. How had Amunet survived the fall into the Duat’s abyss? Clearly someone had saved her. Probably the Traitor. And the Entity? Same deal.

  And how had the sleeping goddess been awakened?

  Another slice of pain traced along her wound like light gleaming on the edge of a sword. Well, there was an answer there too. And it was even more violent than the others.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but some realizations were too wild to be caged for long between two rows of teeth.

  The Dragon King moved closer, and the inhabitants of the Pier seemed to hold their breaths, eyes widening, lips parting, as if they were watching two celestial bodies in the process of colliding. Would the two creatures of unearthly beauty kiss? Fight? Embrace? Who were they to each other? Something in the rubber-necking inner child of each one of the humans gathered over the water dictated that they stop, wait, and find out.

  But Calidum spoke in a hushed tone, and the people watching were only human, so they couldn’t hear what he was telling her.

  “Arach is coming for you.”

  Eva blinked.

  Arach? The dead Dragon King? What the hell was he talking about?

  “He’s far from dead, Eva. He is the Traitor.”

  He’s the Traitor. Eva closed her eyes and touched her forehead. Of course he was the Traitor! No wonder the Entity had kept the Traitor’s identity a secret from her. Arach was probably the one king in the realms the Entity would expect a fellow dragon to instantly recognize.

  “He was promised a queen,” Calidum continued.

  Eva rolled with his words as if she were trying to remain standing in the surf with the tide coming in. The truths kept hitting her, one after another.

  “I know,” she said, eyes still shut. “I get it.” She was figuring it all out now. It all made so much sense.
“And I’m guessing I’m the queen.” Her voice was far, far away, probably somewhere on Alcatraz Island, hanging out with the cormorants, gulls, and pigeons.

  “A green dragon wouldn’t stand a chance against me in battle,” the Dragon King told her plainly. There was nothing in his inflection that spoke of boasting. He was simply trying to get to the point as quickly as possible. “But there’s not a doubt in my mind that Arach is no longer a green dragon. The Entity will have seen to it that his promise comes to fruition.”

  “And since it will take more than a green to hold on to me…” Eva continued to put the pieces together with mentally numb fingers. “He will become something more.” She opened her eyes and locked them on him.

  Calidum nodded slowly. His black eyes glinted with just a hint of that fire they could burst into. “Amunet is not yet at full strength, though you can feel what she’s capable of already.”

  There was no doubt about that. Evil was growing thick in the atmosphere.

  “And she has used what power she yet possesses to aid the Entity in changing Arach,” he continued. “Until we know what we’re dealing with, we need to move you some place secret. Some place safe.”

  But you killed my father.

  The mind is a curious thing. Every mind in every realm was composed of billions of ADHD neurons that jumped around and lit up and shut off and brought up images and thoughts and memories with the slightest provocation at light speed, no matter the situation. They were like tiny dancing munchkins, grinning ear to ear on sugar highs and leaving sticky fingerprints all over the walls of the brain as they flicked switches, giggled, and climbed on top of things that nothing was supposed to climb on top of.

  Even in the heart of real and present stress, the mind continued to spin and run and tag, you’re it. Even dragon minds did this. And so it was with silent but accepting bewilderment that as Evangeline thought those words: you killed my father – she also of course pictured Inigo Montoya in the heart of his confrontation with Count Tyrone Rugen, the six fingered man.