Broken Dragon (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 3)

by D. W. Moneypenny

  She froze Time. Sam stopped melting away; smoke stopped pouring across the lawn, and flames stopped crawling up the back wall of the house. The sudden quiet was startling.

  “You know you are only putting off the inevitable, dude. How long you think you can hold it, before you start to disappear yourself?” It was a man’s baritone with a lisp but a feminine lilt. Prado’s voice with Abby’s attitude.

  Mara’s head turned toward the bubble. Stepping from the giant hole at the center, Abby smiled as best she could with half her face melted away. The burning house reflected in her eyes as she looked around, assessing her surroundings. The red and black irises shone, as if she found something amusing.

  “It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” she said, then pointed to the trail of mist leading from Sam. “Why don’t you let me have this one? You can always find another brother somewhere else. What do you say?”

  “What happened to you?” Mara asked.

  Abby turned her scarred cheek toward Mara. “Oh, you mean this?” She grinned and waved a hand over it. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable with this.” Abby’s features shifted and smoothed. The damage was undone. Other than the strange eyes, it was the Abby who Mara knew.

  “I wasn’t talking about your appearance. What are you hoping to accomplish with all this?” Mara held out her arms to the sphere. “Why are you taking these people against their wills and abandoning them between realms?”

  Abby laughed. “Abandoning them? You make it sound so wanton and heartless. I mean them no harm. The fact that they are sacrificed for the greater good is incidental and quite necessary. After all, one incarnation is a small price to pay in the battle for a more perfect reality. Don’t you agree?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Abby smiled and nodded toward the dark contrails inside the sphere. “I know. Let’s just say, circumstances have forced me to improvise. Think of them as collateral damage. But don’t fret. I’m sure most of them are living out other mundane existences in other places. Their loss is inconsequential.”

  “What makes you think that’s up to you? Who died and left you in charge?”

  “Abby did. She died so I could be born.” Her gaze slowly followed the arc of the sphere and then settled on Mara. “Unlike these poor souls, you sacrificed all of her, all that she was or could be, to save yourself. You don’t seem to be losing any sleep over that or over those you have killed in your pursuit of what you think is correct. I’m no different than you.”

  Mara slammed her fists against the edge of the bubble and screamed, “Why are you doing this?” Nothing happened. She looked down at her hands, and they were flickering.

  Abby shook her head and said, “Tick-tock. Time’s running out.”

  “What do you want from me?” Mara asked. “Leave my brother alone, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Unfortunately that’s not possible. In a way he provides safe passage for me into his realm. As you can see from my injuries, simply stepping into an unknown realm can be somewhat problematic, if you are not prepared for, say, something like an atmosphere that is too acidic for your complexion. Your little brother and his friends help me find safe harbors, as I prepare myself.”

  “Prepare yourself for what?”

  Abby’s eyes twinkled. “For battle.”

  “Who are you preparing to battle?” Mara asked.

  “You, of course. Only one of us can determine the course of events.”

  Mara raised her arms, as if surrendering. “By all means, have at it. You determine the course of events—whatever the hell that means. Just leave Sam alone.”

  “Unfortunately that’s not how this works.” Abby looked away dismissively. “You are a disappointment. It’s almost incomprehensible that you choose to remain ignorant in this little backwater of a realm, when endless possibilities—and endless power—are at your fingertips. Look at you, standing there whining for your brother, like some weak little waif. It’s pathetic.”

  Abby reached out an upturned palm, and blue light from the periphery of the sphere gathered above it. It grew and spun, until it transformed into the ball of molten mercury. She twisted her wrist, and the lines and nodes that filled the sphere turned with it. Reaching up to her left, she pointed to a node just out of reach.

  “Now, in this realm, that brother of yours is a real spitfire. It’s a realm of cannibals, and you know how he likes to eat. Why don’t we go get him to assuage your loss? I’m sure he’s a lot more entertaining that this one.” She glanced up at the trail of mist streaming from Sam into the dark opening behind her.

  Again Mara slammed her fists against the edge of the sphere. It thrummed and resisted. Holding up her arms, she watched them flicker more rapidly. They grew more transparent by the second.

  “Look,” Abby said. “We seem to be making some progress again.”

  The sparkling stream leading from Sam inched forward; more of him melted away. Firelight danced on the edge of the bubble, as flames fluttered along the back of the house again.

  “No!” Mara screamed and flung herself against the static barrier, her body flickering as she pitched forward. She bounced off the sphere and fell backward, landing on her butt. Without pausing, she jumped up and threw herself at it again. Just before she collided with the static barrier, she disappeared and sensed nothingness—like floating weightless in space. Then a jolt of electricity passed through her, and she reappeared. Not meeting the anticipated resistance, she pitched forward again, sprawling onto her hands and knees.

  A wave of dizziness swept over her, sending a tremble through her arms that threatened to fold beneath her. Shaking her head until the feeling passed, she found herself looking under her arms and past her legs, in the direction from which she fell.

  Behind her was the blue wall of the bubble, intact. She was inside.

  CHAPTER 55

  Pressing her hands onto her knees and swaying as she tried to stand up, Mara felt old and spent, but she had stopped fading away for the moment. With her own existence continuing for the moment, she checked on her brother, and what she saw made her straighten, forgetting her weariness. Everything below his ribs had melted away. Behind him, the fire continued to rage, having reached the roofline of the house.

  Mara turned to Abby and said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not going to stand by and watch you take my brother.”

  “I would not recommend doing anything too destructive while you are inside the sphere. The repercussions could be quite substantial, if you are not careful,” Abby said. She smiled and pointed to one of the nodes above them, near the top of the sphere. “Do you see that node way up there, right in the center at the top?”

  Mara glanced up but immediately returned her gaze to Abby without replying.

  Abby’s face twisted into a lopsided grin. “Watch this.”

  She held out her hand, and blue light from the periphery of the sphere gathered above it and spun. Soon it was the familiar ball of roiling mercury, emitting a burst of blue light, the Chronicle in its active state.

  Abby dug her fingers into the moving mass, reared as if winding up for a pitch and threw the ball at the node. The ball of mercury struck with an electric snap, and the node exploded into a shower of sparkles that rained down over them, fading before touching their heads. The ball of blue mercury arced along the edge of the sphere, making one complete orbit as it spiraled back down and alighted over Abby’s outstretched palm.

  “An entire realm gone. Just like that,” Abby said. “If you are considering using your abilities in here, you might want to think about the consequences. One of those lightning bolts you like to throw around could wipe out countless civilizations.” She made a mock frown and added, “More collateral damage.”

  “You murdered an entire realm, just to make a point?” Mara said.

  “You are melodramatic, aren’t you?” Abby said. “Everything in that realm was already dead. In that version of reality, you and
I lived only for a few seconds and died millennia ago. Like fruit flies, I suppose. My point is, this is not the time and place for a confrontation, unless you are comfortable with genocide.”

  Mara’s gaze flitted over to her brother. Only his shoulders and head remained. Turning back to Abby, she said, “You’re just biding your time. You don’t care about repercussions and consequences. You want to distract me long enough to get what you came for and leave.”

  Abby stepped back toward the dark opening at the center of the sphere.

  “You’re worried about me using my abilities while I’m in here, but it’s not because you’re concerned about the welfare of these realms.” Mara nodded toward the nodes floating around them. “Why would that be?”

  Mara scanned the interior of the sphere, putting her dissolving brother and burning home out of her mind long enough to figure out what to do. She scrutinized the node floating in front of her, the one that represented her realm, this realm. Apart from inflicting Armageddon by blowing up random realms, what are the implications of having her abilities inside this blue bubble of static? It’s like moving to a higher level on a flow chart. Outside the sphere, her abilities apply to just the realm she’s in. Out there, a lightning bolt can zap a dragon, but in here, it can zap an entire alternate reality. Time? She starts flickering, just freezing Time in the backyard. If she froze a realm, she’d probably evaporate immediately and permanently. Space. Moving something from one place to another …

  Mara’s eyes widened, as she considered the possibilities, but Abby pitched the swirling ball of mercury at another node, this one hovering along the sphere’s edge to the left of Mara’s shoulder. When it collided—reverberating metallically like a muffled bell—it bounced like a billiard ball, sending the node ricocheting into the center of Mara’s chest, exploding in a blinding burst of crystalline blue light and plunging her into unseen depths.

  Mara’s spine snapped to attention, as she realized that she stood on solid ground. Wavering on the balls of her feet, she opened her eyes and cringed, again blinded, but this time by the noonday sun. Holding a hand as a brim over her brow, she squinted into the yellow light and recognized the back of her house, intact and unburned. She was still in the backyard, but the bubble was gone, and the fire looked as if it had never occurred.

  From behind her, a female voice said, “Where in the world did you come from?”

  Mara turned. Standing behind her was a young woman wearing a massive bell-shaped dress adorned with large pink flowers and trimmed in layers of lace. Mara gasped when she recognized her own face and blurted out, “Are you actually wearing hoops under that skirt?”

  Her counterpart’s face went pale, and her mouth fell open. After a moment of silent staring, she emitted a high-pitched wail that included no intelligible words, gathered up what Mara thought might be her petticoats, turned and ran toward the fence at the back of the yard. Instead of chasing her, Mara glanced around what clearly was her backyard in Oregon City—she didn’t think she had entered the eighteenth century. Maybe her counterpart was getting ready for a costume party. She hoped so; she’d hate to think that she’d seriously wear that get-up in any realm.

  “Not my problem,” she muttered. She had to get home, her home. Reaching to her back pocket, she froze when she found it empty. The Chronicle was gone.

  “Hey, you! Whatever you are, you get out of here!” her counterpart yelled from the fence line while trying unsuccessfully to hide her voluminous skirts behind the old oak tree.

  Mara called after her. “You can come out of there. I have no intention of hurting you.”

  “Go away! If you don’t leave, I will shoot you. I promise,” the other Mara said.

  Mara raised an eyebrow. “You have a gun hidden under all that dress?”

  “I have one in the house, and I’ll use it!”

  Mara wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she got whiney. She walked toward the fence. “But I’m between you and the house, so a gun’s not going to do you much good, is it? Why don’t you just come out, and I’ll explain everything. Aren’t you the least bit curious about why we look exactly the same?”

  “No! Leave!”

  Mara inched closer to the tree and tried to sound casual. “Honestly I just need your help with something, and then I’ll be out of your hair forever—I promise.”

  Her counterpart narrowed her eyes. “What kind of help?”

  As Mara stepped to the left side of the tree, she reached for her counterpart’s hand. “Just a simple handshake, that’s all.”

  The other Mara bolted past the right side of the tree trunk and ran toward the back porch. Surprised at how quickly her counterpart could move in something so nonaerodynamic as that dress, Mara sprinted after her. As they approached the middle of the yard, Mara caught up and attempted to grab her counterpart’s shoulders but snagged her own foot on the dress’s hem and toppled forward into its skirts. Trying to regain her balance, she grabbed two handfuls of material, which tore away as she fell to the ground and rolled for several feet. Through a blanket of lace that had somehow wound itself on Mara’s head, she could see her counterpart ascend the back porch steps.

  Mara reached out and froze Time. Her counterpart stopped midstride on the last step, reaching for the back door of the house.

  Flinging material off her head and arms, Mara stood and stomped over to the porch. Since her skirts had been torn away, her counterpart stood frozen on the porch, wearing only a flowery blouse and several tiers of wire hoops that hung from her hips, through which her lacy pantaloons could be seen.

  Mara shook her head in disgust. “Girl, if I live long enough to make it back this way, you and I are going to have a talk. Pantaloons, of all things. I hate to say it, but this might ruin those as well.”

  With that, Mara reached out and touched her counterpart’s cheeks. An explosion of blue light enveloped them, and Mara felt herself falling again.

  CHAPTER 56

  When the blue flash dissipated, Mara found herself standing inside the bubble facing Abby, who had a look of shock on her face. She turned to check on Sam. Only his head remained, floating in the air above the stream of iridescent mist that threatened to drain the last of him.

  Abby wound up to throw the ball of mercury again, but Mara raised her hand and yelled, “Don’t! I’ll just come back again!”

  Abby didn’t hesitate and tossed the glowing orb over Mara’s shoulder, striking another node with a muffled metallic twang. As it flew toward her, Mara dove out of the way, losing her sense of direction as she fell and rolled along the ground. When she came to a stop, there, inches from her face, lying in the grass just outside the bubble’s static wall, was the Chronicle—her Chronicle. It must have fallen from her pocket. Testing the bubble’s edge with a finger, she felt a light resistance, but it gave way and allowed her finger to pass through. Plunging her arm through the static barrier, she grabbed the copper medallion and pulled it to her chest.

  Above her, she heard the metallic sound of another node being struck. Pressing the Chronicle to her chest with one hand, she rolled onto her back and came face-to-face with a node floating above her. This realm’s node.

  Grabbing it in her left hand, she jerked it to the right, deflecting the node that flew at her from above. Another metallic sound resonated inside the sphere, but the ricocheting node arced away, returning to its place.

  Maintaining her grip on the node and pressing the Chronicle to her chest, Mara scrambled awkwardly to her feet. She spun around in time to see Abby, rearing back for another pitch. Mara thrust her left hand forward as if the node were a weapon, causing Abby to pause.

  “Sam, come home,” Mara said.

  A cloud of iridescent mist flooded from the dark chasm behind Abby and poured into the node in Mara’s hand. Abby’s head swung around to see Sam, his body intact, standing just outside the edge of the bubble staring at them, confused.

  Abby smiled. “Damn, you’re learning.”

 
Mara released the node, and it continued to float before her. Not taking her gaze from Abby, she said to her brother, “Go make sure Mom and Hannah are okay. Be careful. The dragon’s flying around out there.”

  He blinked a couple times, turned and froze when he saw the flames consuming the house. Turning back to look at his sister, she nodded to him and said, “Go look for them out front.” He jogged around the side of the house toward the front yard.

  “Too bad that one got away. I guess I’ll have to drop by again sometime,” Abby said, turning toward the black opening behind her. She lifted her foot to enter it.

  “You give up easily, don’t you?” Mara asked.

  Abby pulled back her foot and faced Mara. “I haven’t given up anything today. You’re just putting off the inevitable.”

  The tension fell from Mara’s face, and she said, “Abby, let me help you. There has to be some part of you in there that still recognizes me. There must be a way to put an end to all this.”

  Abby laughed. “Let’s just let bygones be bygones. That what you want?”

  “I want my friend back. I don’t want to fight you.”

  “You have no choice. If you want your friend back, you must fight. If you want to keep this world and this life, you must fight, because, for you to have this existence, I must give up mine. And I will fight you across every inch of every realm to make sure that never happens.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense,” Mara said. She waved to the nodes and lines that hovered around them. “With all these realms, why would we need to fight?”

  Abby’s gaze drifted upward following Mara’s gesture. “Because only one of these realms will become reality, and I intend it to be the one of my choosing. So you have a choice. Fight or die. Fight or watch everything and everyone you love evaporate.”