“Harry had left the princess to the dragon!” the whole crowd echoed, but not at once, producing a disconcerted semi-echo that faded off, ending with a mumbled “aagon” sound.
“Why did he leave, Miss Lizzy?” the original complainer rejoined. “Isn’t he a hero? Wouldn’t he have stayed to fight?”
“The story is not over yet, guys… let me continue, and I am pretty sure most of your questions will get answered.
“When Harry melted back into the darkness, he heard the sword say, ‘Harry, there is a small split in the rock up ahead a few feet. It is a narrow tunnel that leads up and comes out over the cavern where the princess is chained. From there you can leap onto the dragon’s head and kill it. Your armor will protect you. I can cut through anything, and worst case, the spurs you are wearing will rip into the big critter’s side and hold you on him if he decides to fly out of the cave and into the sky.’
“‘Oh my…’ Harry gasped. Blood ran from his face. His breaths came quickly and his pulse hammered away in his ears. His palms grew sweaty. He wanted to say something, but he was so afraid his lips wouldn’t move.”
Lizzy had not realized it, but she had slipped into the same hypnotic tone of the storyteller’s voice she had heard from her father all her days. Every little wide-eyed urchin in the room was glued to her. Had she had her father’s horrible sense of macabre humor she would have realized it was the perfect time to yell boo! But she didn’t. She had been on the receiving end of that wit too many times to willingly inflict it on anyone else. But Easton, the wall-bouncing boy whose attempt to fly had ended with his arm in a cast, had no such reservations. He noticed the intensity in the room and smiled a wicked gap-toothed smile. He opened his mouth to yell boo, but Lizzy saw him before he could get it out, glared at him, and raised both eyebrows. Don’t you dare! she quickly thought at Easton.
The child’s mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide. His face paled and he grabbed at his throat. It caught Lizzy off guard. She watched in horror and rushed to his rescue. “Easton! Easton! What’s wrong with you?”
The little boy was breathing, but his skin had become pale and clammy. He was still grabbing at his throat.
“Easton, answer me!” Lizzy demanded.
The boy slowly relaxed. Still shaking, he carefully drew his hand away from his throat and hoarsely whispered, “I… can talk… now. I couldn’t talk, Miss Lizzy! I heard you say, ‘Don’t you dare.’ And then I couldn’t talk! What happened to me?” Great big tears welled up in his eyes. He sat up, breathing deeply. “I couldn’t talk!”
Lizzy stared back at him, blinking. She shook her head and was about to say, I didn’t say, “Don’t you dare”; I thought it. But wisely held her tongue. Instead she said, “Easton, I think it is time for a cookie break. Anybody else want a cookie?”
A chorus of “Yeahs!” answered her. As Lizzy moved toward the library kitchen, she saw two little girls whispering.
“I didn’t hear Miss Lizzy say, ‘Don’t you dare,’ did you?”
“No, I didn’t hear her say that at all.”
Lizzy pretended not to hear, but was rattled. What is going on now?
Chapter Fourteen
One minute he had been kneeling in his backyard trying to dry off a huge white German shepherd. He was covered with rotted grass clippings and soaked through and through. The next minute he was dressed in his bronze armor standing on the porch of a modest red-brick house. The door was framed in limestone with ivy growing around it. Children were playing in the street, dogs barked, and across the street a city park lay, inviting people to its shady walks. Harry gasped, stepped back, and almost fell off the front steps that led to the door. He grabbed the iron handrail and held on to it till he regained his composure. The last thing he remembered was the speaker’s avatar placing his hand on his shoulder and saying, “You need to visit the King.”
As Harry leaned on the rail, gasping, the large door opened and a small, elderly Victorian lady looked down on him, smiling. “You must be Harry Ferguson.” She beamed. “He has been expecting you. Come on in, Harry.” She reached down, touching Harry’s arm. The moment her frail-looking hand lit on his shoulder, strength rushed into him.
“Whoa!” he yelled as energy surged.
She smiled. “You are going to have to get used to some things, Harry.”
Harry laughed. “Suppose I am, ma’am.” He righted himself, placed the little lady’s arm in his own, and allowed her to escort him into the house. The house was plain and simple. It was not what he would have expected a king to occupy. Especially this King, the North Star of the dragon riders. The entry hallway opened into a sitting room wallpapered with small figures sketched in mural form. Harry would have loved to inspect every detail of the room but was drawn to the large figure of a man dressed in simple workman’s clothes seated in a Victorian platform rocker. The chair wasn’t jeweled like one would expect a king’s throne to be. It had simple walnut-stained legs and trim and was upholstered in burgundy, with a carved dragon’s head for a crest and scrolled arms resembling dragons’ tails.
Harry stood before the man, who remained seated in the rocker. The man smiled, breaking Harry’s trance. Harry smiled back, savoring every detail of the man’s features. His hair was black streaked with white. His beard reflected the same coloring. His face was tanned and small wrinkles underlined his eyes like an old cowboy whose face was weathered by the wind and sun. Harry recognized him from his first visit in the cave long ago, then immediately knelt.
“Have a seat, Harry. It’s good to see you again,” the King said, rising and reaching for Harry’s hand to pull him up. The King’s lifting motion shifted to holding Harry’s outstretched hand.
Harry noticed the strength of the King’s grip and the calluses of a common working man that lined his hands. He did not know what to say and was afraid to say much. The natural tendency toward shyness that he thought he had outgrown wrapped its awkward tentacles around his heart. The King must have expected that, so was the first to speak.
He pointed to a chair Harry had not noticed being there before. “Have a seat, Harry. Would you like something to drink?”
Harry thought a glass of sweet tea would be nice but didn’t think the King would have that, so he said, “Uh… whatever you are having, sir.”
The King smiled and said, “Well, you know, I just had a hankering for a glass of sweet iced tea, Texan style.”
Before Harry could close his gaping mouth, the little lady who had greeted him entered the room with a silver tray and two large glasses of tea; the sides were glistening with moisture and Harry’s even had a straw. He laughed as he gripped it and then his eyes brightened as he sipped.
The King took a long draw on his own tea glass and wiped his mustache with the back of his hand. “Ahh… now that is good tea. I have a relationship with a grower in Kenya.”
Harry smiled so hard he thought his cheeks would split.
The King was also enjoying the moment. “It’s good to see you, Harry.” He chuckled. “And even though I have all the time in the world, you don’t. So let me talk to you about some things. First, though, I know you have questions, so ask, and if I can answer them, I will. Now, before you get started, most of the people who drop by here are curious to know if this is where I live… and the answer to that is no… not really. This is Marie’s house, the dear lady who escorted you in and served the tea. She has gone out of her way to make a place for me here. She even went so far as to set this room aside for me, so I visit her often. Now you have other questions, don’t you?”
Harry’s head dropped. He sighed and feverishly tried to work out just the right words. He was about to speak when the King began. “Harry, you project your thoughts like a revival preacher shouts Scripture… I don’t mean to pry, but your brain is blaring out your heart’s intent… so let me try and summarize them for you. You want to know about Sarah. You’re afraid to hope, you expect to be disappointed, and you don’t want to offend me by not b
eing happy with the assignment or the gifts I have given you, so you’re stuttering and stammering in a fog of confused thoughts that are mired in fear. Is that close?”
Harry snorted, unleashing a tension that hung from his heart on iron cobwebs. In a moment the stress and worry of several lifetimes was pushed back from the rut it had worn in his soul. He felt something he couldn’t identify and would have backed away from had he been able—he felt hope.
“Thought so… well, let’s see if I can give you the short version in the order you didn’t ask the questions… Yes, don’t be, you will, it will be okay, and you haven’t. Now would you like me to elaborate a little on that?”
Harry beamed and shook his head, excited. He knew no matter what, no matter how long, his heart would heal and Sarah would be a part of that healing. He felt a joy well up within him like a mountain creek, pure, cold, and sparkling. He sighed again, releasing the fears that had carved a rut in his heart. He looked at the King with awe and delight and then the tears started… “Thank you, sir, thank you so much…”
“Doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it, son? And because it doesn’t, I am going to lavish some things on you. You are going to spend a lifetime with her. You two are going to set back the clock on the enemy’s plans. You are the edge to my sword. It will not always be pleasant. But even those times will not rob you of your love and your joy. But unless you think I just spoiled the plot for you, well, there are some twists in this story yet to be revealed that are going to shake everything that can shake loose in your hearts. But even those moments will be light and nothing compared to the things I have in store for you.”
Harry was grinning and crying and trying to find a polite way to wipe the blubbered snot off his face without using the back of his hand. The King saw it, grinned, and produced a royal handkerchief that Harry gratefully received.
“Any more questions?”
Harry thought hard… but was so overwhelmed with delight he couldn’t clear his mind.
The King was familiar with the effect and said, “It’s okay, Harry, the speaker gave me a list before you got here. So let me work my way down it.”
He took a slender silver pen from his shirt pocket, reached over to the nightstand that held a pile of books, dug through it a second, and drew out a small leather-bound volume. He opened it to a page with a list and started reading. “Okay, his relationship to Sarah, check.” He made a mark with the pen and then used it to point toward the next question on the list. “‘Why me? I feel so unworthy…’ Uh, hmm, well, Harry, truth is no one is worthy… it’s not a matter of being worthy to be a dragon rider. You have the cart before the horse, or in this case, dragon.”
The King smirked at Harry to see if he had caught the joke and noticed his goofy look. He widened his smile and continued, “Being a dragon rider makes you worthy. It’s what you do in response to being chosen that proves the choice.”
Harry was still a little slow, considering where he was and who he was talking to.
The King shook his head, trying not to laugh. “You know, foreknowledge? Predestination, being conformed into the image?”
Harry couldn’t have counted his fingers or toes at the moment, so just stuck with his goofy smile and nodded.
The King understood Harry’s dilemma and continued, “Okay, remember that even if you walk out of here a little confused, one of the gifts the speaker revealed was a remarkable memory, so just try to keep that in mind.”
Harry blinked, almost came to himself, and nodded again.
“Okay, next question, what is this time loop thing?” The King continued pointing to the pad in his hand. “Good question.” He looked at Harry desperately trying to keep his mind focused… and laughed.
Harry was thinking, I don’t think that was ice tea… or teaed ice or whatever… I am reallllly confused here.
The King, enjoying the experience as much as Harry was, said, “Harry, what you are experiencing is joy… waves and waves of joy… you have had so little of it and never ever experienced it in as pure a form as you are this minute.”
Harry’s mind started to clear. He started to wonder if he had missed anything but was drawn back into the conversation when the King paused, made eye contact, and then began again.
“But back to the time loop thing. If I remember correctly, and I do, you have already been made aware that time is like a river. When you swim up to the top of it and climb out of it, you notice that it has an upstream and a downstream, and many, many currents… sometimes the currents even seem to swirl and retreat a bit before floating back. There are also many tributaries that run into the river and many that run out of it; sometimes they seem to be flowing down the wrong channels, but eventually they all flow back into the river. Do you understand?”
As the King spoke, Harry could see small streams running together and becoming larger, then turning aside. “Yes, sir, I understand that part. The part I am having trouble with is how I can have apparently been to England and met John Timothy and had several missions and mentored so many people and have only the vaguest memories of it.” He leaned in toward the King, placed both elbows on his knees, put his head in his hands, stared straight ahead, and waited.
Sitting back in his throne, the King put his hands behind his head and stared at Harry a moment. “Harry, let’s go outside. Marie has a wonderful garden; it even has a little spring that flows through it. The spring wells up right in the backyard and then flows on from there.”
Harry was curious to hear about a garden that the King would describe as beautiful. He followed him through the screen door and off the wraparound porch down into a luxuriant garden. It was huge! Harry couldn’t hear the dogs barking or discern any fences screening out neighbors. He had almost gotten used to being stunned by things.
“This way, Harry, follow me.”
Harry moved to follow the King down a half-hidden little path covered by great ferns, then lined with fragrant red and gold flowers. Magnificently arrayed butterflies hovered over the flowers. Harry had a hard time keeping from being distracted but was determined to stay close to the King. They walked long enough for Harry to think, This is the largest backyard I have ever been in… I don’t think this is England. The front of the house sure looked like a lovely little English house. But we have left the neighborhood.
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when the path ended at a little clearing. A small spring trickled out from some ancient rocks. The channel it cut through the forest floor was narrow enough that Harry could easily step over it, and he did following the King. Someone had piled some rocks near the spring’s head so that a person could easily dip their toes or fingers in the sparkling water.
The King sat on the rocks and invited Harry to join him. Harry sat on a companion rock and the King began. “Harry, time is like this spring. Watch now as I place my hands in the water and then push back on the flow for a moment. I can dam it, I can even push it forward; I can dip my hands in it and pour it out on other places. It is very fluid, very adaptable for someone who stands outside it and can maneuver it.” The King placed a small stick in the water, and Harry watched it float a few feet. The King picked the stick up and move it back to the first place he had put it in the water. “Now watch, Harry.” He let the stick float but also carved out a small tributary with his hand. Water filled the little channel and the stick began to float down it. The King continued to carve out the channel and joined it back to the original spring bed. “Did you note that the stick covered the same distance and eventually came out in the same place?”
Harry was intrigued and intently listening. “Yes, sir, I did.”
“The stick covered the same distance in the same water but in two different places. It was still wet from the first small trip, and took that moisture into the second. It traveled the same distance and eventually came out in the same place.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded.
The King looked up at Harry and said, “I am not the only one that
can cut new channels and maneuver the stream. When the stream does not flow in the places intended for it, troubles can come. Some sticks cannot handle flowing in both streams. Some can. Those sticks represent people. The stream, as you have already gathered, is time. You are one of the few people who by virtue of creation can navigate both time streams… and Harry, this is a very simplistic example. There are millions of tiny stream deviations.”
Harry pulled himself up from the stream and looked at the King. “I don’t understand everything, sir, but I think I get the gist of it.”
The King laughed. He was not about to discourage Harry’s attempt to understand, but also realized a three-year-old doesn’t usually make a very good cosmological physicist. “Well then, now that we’ve thoroughly penciled that out, is there anything else on your mind?”
Harry dipped his hands in the cold spring water to wash off the mud from his quantum time travel lesson. As he did he felt them tingle like he had rolled the window down while driving his truck during a thunderstorm and a thousand raindrops had pricked his skin. He drew them quickly out of the stream, shivering but not from the cold water. He looked up at the King, who was watching him carefully. A glimmer of a smile hiding from his lips but sneaking into his eyes gave away a secret.
Harry’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened as a spark of insight flashed. The King’s face reflected proud confirmation of Harry’s revelation. The King nodded.
Harry continued to stare into the laughing eyes of the North Star sovereign. “This isn’t just a little backyard spring, is it?”
The King straightened up and pulled Harry to rise with him. He dusted the mud off his hands and onto his workman’s jeans. “Depends on whose backyard you’re talking about, Harry—mine or yours.”
Harry’s eyes continued to expand. He barely kept his knees from knocking. He was sure his mouth had gaped open and was tempted to reach up and shut it. The King continued, “Now, Harry, there is something I want to mention to you… it’s not a demand or royal declaration, but…” Harry was riveted, listening intently. “And I know it may not be possible. She may not let you… but if at all possible, I would appreciate it if you don’t kill Belle Rodum.”
The Harry Ferguson Chronicles Box Set Page 32