The Serpent's Ring (Relics of Mysticus)

by H. B. Bolton

  THE SERPENT’S RING

  Relics of Mysticus: Book One

  by H.B. Bolton

  Copyright © 2012 by H.B. Bolton. All rights reserved.

  First Kindle Edition: August 2012

  Cover Art: Elisabeth Alba

  Interior Art: H.B. Bolton

  Cover Design and Interior Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Coming Soon

  Magical Food Recipes

  Reference

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  For Brad, who encourages when others doubt,

  For Lauren, who swims with mermaids,

  For Wade, who believes in magic,

  And for Cayce, who has probably heard enough, but listens anyway,

  This adventure is for you.

  Chapter One

  FAMILY FUN DAY

  GIANT WAVES APPROACHED—CLOSER, CLOSER. Seawater raced over shells and tiny crabs; sea foam nestled around Evan’s toes.

  “Surf’s up,” grinned Evan, clutching his surfboard. “I can do this.”

  Brilliant colors came to life within enormous sheets of water. Sparks of yellows, oranges, and reds formed into sinister shapes. They circled, edging closer.

  Bull sharks!

  Slowly, Evan’s feet sank into the gritty, wet sand, and fear coursed throughout his fourteen-year-old body. He tightened his grip on the surfboard and tried to free his legs from the gluelike sand.

  A large wave froze a few feet before him; colorful sharks circled inside.

  “Get away!” Evan screamed at the swarming collection of teeth and coal-black eyes.

  Something shoved against his shoulder! It pushed him into the wild surf. A trace of seawater splattered across his face; salt scorched his lips.

  “Stop!” he yelled with all of his remaining strength.

  Thrashing desperately, Evan sought to keep himself from entering the wave.

  The board!

  Evan pulled it to him and landed with a painful thud onto a strangely hard surface.

  “Let go of me, pea brain. It’s time to get up,” Claire said as she yanked her arm from her brother’s unexpected grip. “Remember, today is ‘Family Fun Day.’ Be late, and Mom and Dad will have a fit.”

  Evan’s older sister swiftly exited his bedroom, most likely heading for the bathroom, where she would endlessly brush her hair and put all sorts of strange stuff on her face. No doubt, she will stink up the entire upstairs by slathering on flowery perfume. He was pretty sure he would have to use the downstairs bathroom.

  “Wow, what a weird dream,” said Evan, scratching the side of his head. He lifted his body off the wooden floor, and after shuffling through mounds of fallen clothes, he managed to locate something to wear. Sure, the outfit didn’t exactly match, but his day was about to be spent in Boredomville anyway. His T-shirt probably had a stain on it somewhere; he didn’t care. And there sat his lucky baseball cap. Now that he cared about. After all, he wore it to all of the University of Michigan games.

  “Come on guys; let’s go! We have lots to see!” His mom’s voice echoed throughout the house.

  “She sounds a little too enthusiastic,” said Evan after meeting his sister at the top of the stairs. “If it were up to me, we’d be at the beach surfing the waves.”

  “Evan, you’ve lived in Michigan your entire life. Have you ever surfed on lake ripples? Get a clue,” said Claire, wandering toward their parents.

  “Whatever,” he mumbled, following his sister down the stairs.

  Ride in minivan: boring. Family day: boring. Museum: boring. Evan’s life: boring. What bad luck being held captive by his parents for an entire day. Ever since his Mom took that job at the art gallery, she decided to declare every single Saturday Family Fun Day. It might as well have been called, “Evan Has to Do Something He Really Doesn’t Want to Do Day.”

  He would much rather spend his day slurping down soda and eating chips while playing Hungry on Xbox or reading Breaking Down. Ah, that would have been more like it. Instead, he was stuck sitting in the backseat of the minivan, next to his annoying older sister.

  “What are you looking at?” Claire scowled at him.

  “I was just wondering how our parents managed to switch you at birth and keep it from you all these years,” Evan teased.

  “Kids, remember the rules; there’s no fighting on Family Fun Day,” said Mom, turning to face them. “Come on, you two. Can you please at least try to act civil to each other for just one day of the week?”

  “It’s kind of hard when he smells like a sweaty sock,” Claire said with a smirk, clearly pleased with her witty comment.

  “Oh yeah, well—” Evan started, but was cut short by his mom.

  “Claire. Evan. I’m not kidding around here. We are going to spend time together as a family, even if it means sitting around the dining-room table and staring at each other all day!” The sharpness of their mother’s tone contrasted with her normally cheerful demeanor. Evan and Claire looked at each other and nodded in a silent truce.

  “All right, Mom; I’m sure we’ll have a great day,” said Claire, nudging into Evan.

  “Yeah, it’ll be fun,” he said, trying to mimic his sister’s false enthusiasm.

  Immediately, their dad chimed, “You two will be surprised by how awesome Henry Ford’s museum is. There will be old trains and planes. And that’s just inside the building. Outdoors is a whole other world. People refer to it as Henry Ford’s train set. That’s because he brought in historical buildings from all around the world.

  “Imagine a house being taken apart, brick by brick, board by board. It’s then transported over sea by boat or across country by train. And then it arrives in many pieces and workers put it back together. It’s really fascinating …”

  Blah, Blah, Blah.

  Evan tried to keep a smile on his face, but he only paid attention to every other word. He did perk up when he heard Dad mention something about an
exhibition of swords. And Dad should know; after all, he was a popular history teacher who was prone to being a little overly enthusiastic.

  Last week, Evan’s family spent an entire day at an art museum. It was all right, except for his father rambling on and on saying, ‘Blah-blah’s use of symmetry and Blah-blah’s use of color.’ And since Mom sold artwork for a living, she too would pipe in details about every single sculpture, painting, drawing, lithograph, photograph, and tapestry. Honestly, she was even worse than Dad.

  “Look, there’s the building,” said Dad, pointing off to his left. “It’s truly amazing. I know I’ve said this a million times before, but you won’t believe what’s in there.” He then continued to blather about the neat stuff contained inside each gallery.

  When Dad turned into the parking lot, Evan was actually impressed by what he saw. A gigantic stone building was up ahead, and to his right was the entrance to Greenfield Village. Secretly, he allowed himself to join in his dad’s excitement just a little. And from what Evan could see on this side of the high wall, he believed what his father had said about a whole other world was waiting on the other side.

  While kicking at some small rocks, Evan followed the rest of his group through the main gates. He smiled as pebbles and sand scratched under his sneakers and tumbled along the sidewalk.

  “Over there is the old Firestone Farm; we’ll see it later. For now, I have arranged a surprise for you,” said Dad, pointing in the direction of a small, gray building. “Our chariot awaits.”

  A sign reading “Happy Honking” hung down over the wooden deck. Evan practically jumped out of his skin when he heard an obnoxious honk-honk! A friendly enough looking man, wearing a goofy hat and red bowtie, drove a black Model T car in their direction.

  “You folks ready for the tour?” asked the man with a large smile.

  “You bet we are,” Dad exclaimed. “That’s right the Jones family is going to see Greenfield Village in style.”

  Evan’s parents slid onto the back seat, and Claire jumped in between them. Evan quickly realized that he was left with the front seat, next to the newly dubbed Mr. Big Smile.

  “Well, at least it’s a convertible,” mumbled Evan, slouching onto the old leather.

  Welcome to Main Street. Is this your first time here?” Mr. Big Smile asked.

  “We old folks have been here many times, but this is a first for our kids,” said Mom over the engine.

  “So, leave nothing out. We want to see and hear it all,” said Dad, and with that, their lives would never be the same again.

  Chapter Two

  HIDDEN TREASURE FOUND

  THE GROUP PASSED BY MANY historical buildings, and Evan planted his chin on top of his balled-up hand. As far as tours went, it wasn’t as boring as he had assumed. The tour guide sure did know his stuff.

  The Model T rolled along, eventually slowing in front of a building marked “Closed for Renovation.” Evan noticed something scamper below the roof’s eaves. He could have sworn whatever he saw had a monkey’s tail, but that would be impossible unless there was a petting zoo nearby. No matter what that thing was, it looked really weird.

  “Did you see that?” Evan asked.

  “You mean the house? Why, that was Dr. Irving’s residence. It sat empty for more than eighty years before Greenfield Village purchased it. There were so many items to categorize that it took the team longer than normal to transport the house and its contents here. The house came all the way from England. But, I’m afraid it won’t be open to the public for a few more weeks,” said Mr. Big Smile, and he continued to drive idly down the single-lane road.

  “Funny story with that house: I’ve heard the professor went missing while out doing research. You see, he was a botanist, and from what I understand, he was brilliant. An amazing lab was hidden away inside the front study. It was only found when our team began preparing the house for the move.”

  Something shifted; there it was again! It stared right at Evan, a strange, little creature with bulging eyes.

  “What is that?” Evan asked. But nobody paid any attention, and the creature disappeared. Now, Evan was eager for the tour to end. If Mr. Big Smile didn’t hurry up, by the time Evan returned to Dr. Irving’s house, the creature would be gone. Evan shifted in his seat and shuffled his feet, but the tour continued to drag.

  “In another thirty minutes the clock will chime,” said the driver as he parked the Model T. “You don’t want to miss it. Something pretty unique happens at noon, and you kids will be in for a real surprise.”

  “We’ll do that, thanks,” Dad announced, leading the family down a pathway. “Your mother and I will reserve a spot on one of those park benches and wait for the clock. Would you two like to ride on the old-time carousel while we wait?”

  “Actually, Dad, do you mind if I wander around for a little bit? I promise to come back in thirty minutes,” Evan asked.

  “Alrighty, but make it twenty-five. I’m telling you, the clock tower puts on a unique show. And afterward, we’ll eat some ice cream,” said Dad.

  As Evan set off for Dr. Irving’s home, he was still trying to make sense of that little thing he had seen. Evan walked past large trees and over lush grass. He kicked up dandelion seeds and breathed in the crisp summer air. And as he approached Dr. Irving’s house, he felt like he had entered another time. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what the house had looked like a hundred years ago.

  Evan scanned along and under the roof’s eaves—no sign of the creature. He wandered around to the back of the house—still nothing. He even crawled around to see underneath the house—just a bunch of dirt and cobwebs. He was about to leave when he saw three steps leading to the back porch. He sat down on the top step and sighed.

  Just then, Evan was startled by the sounds of something like long toenails scurrying across a hard surface. He looked down the long porch in both directions, but nothing was there, nothing but an old rickety deck.

  All of a sudden, that same sound came from inside the house. Evan jumped up and tried to peek through the dirt-covered windows. He stretched his shirt bottom and rubbed an area clean.

  Inside, he could just about make out an old fashioned kitchen. He went to the door and tried the handle, certain it would be locked. But, to his amazement, it opened. Although it was against his better judgment, he went inside.

  Floorboards squeaked and cobwebs were clustered in corners. Evan knew he should leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. He just couldn’t stop his feet from traveling down the dark hallway. He wandered into the front study. A brick fireplace still held the odor of burnt logs. Wooden shelves lined every wall and were loaded with books.

  Evan ran his finger across old leather spines. He laughed a little at how silly some of the names were: Paint Your Roses Red, Edelweiss and Me, World of Mushrooms and Fungi, The Toadstool Diaries, Daffodils Unseen, and Exotic Plants Unleashed, to name but a few. Evan spied a book on sea serpents and, intrigued, reached for its weathered binding. Inside, colorful illustrations depicted serpents in every possible size, shape, and color. A passage, hand-written in ink, stretched across a page:

  Beware of the serpent, big and foul.

  If unleashed, he’ll loudly howl.

  To his evil delight, water will surge,

  And man will be washed away.

  “That doesn’t even rhyme,” Evan mocked. “Dr. Irving may have been smart, but he wasn’t much of a poet.”

  Evan didn’t pay attention to how the minutes ticked away as he looked through each page. Finally, after glancing at his watch, he realized he was going to be late. He pushed the book back into the empty space, but it got stuck. Reaching his hand into the recess, his cuff caught on a little lever. He tugged at his sleeve—there was a sharp click and the entire bookshelf slid back and rolled sideways.

  What had just happened?

  Edging closer, Evan peered into the small room. As soon as he stepped inside, he was overwhelmed by a cloud of dust.

  “
Whew!” He let out a breath of air, trying to dislodge gunk from his lungs.

  Evan entered the arid space and searched for a light. Tattered fabric hung over a stained-glass window. He scooted around objects and then pulled down the musty fabric. Sunlight streamed in, and Evan had to adjust his eyes.

  The room looked like a science lab, but not the sort you’d see in today’s classrooms. There were old-time objects everywhere: a gas lantern, wooden globes, bronze sculptures, a quill with parchment, and dried flowers. In fact, there were flowers and plants everywhere: inside glass vials, pinned to corkboards, and strewn across every available surface. A chalkboard, covered by white text and diagrams, sat next to a wooden desk.

  Evan stared at the powdery letters and drawings of plant life and marveled. “That must have been the last thing Dr. Irving worked on.”

  He tried to make sense of some of the rough sketches and ran his finger around a drawing of a serpent biting its own tail. This particular image stuck out like a sore thumb. What was it doing on a chalkboard covered with plants? Evan narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. The image directed his attention toward a collection of framed illustrations, hanging on the opposite wall. His curiosity led him to wander over in that direction.

  Each frame contained an illustration that must have been torn out of a book. One of the pictures hung a little crooked, and as Evan tried to see better, he stretched up to his toes and bounced higher. He climbed onto a table and leaned in, further studying the details of the drawing.

  The table wobbled, and he lost his balance. Just before hitting the floor, he managed to grab the picture and take it down. After missing a ceramic vase, he got back to his feet, all while still cradling the picture to his chest.

  “That’s strange,” whispered Evan, running his hand over splinters along the back of the wooden frame.