by S. G. Rogers
“I bet you can transport anyone in direct physical contact with you. And anyway, you don't think I'd miss this, do you?” Casey asked, grinning from ear to ear. “This is an opportunity of a lifetime.”
Jon exchanged a glance with Kira. She gave him a little nod.
“Okay, but we’ll have to leave from my house. I need my transporter cuff,” Jon said.
Casey stood. “Let's go.”
But the door was suddenly blocked by a wide figure dressed in football pads.
“You ain't going nowhere without me,” Fred said.
Jon squared off against him. “What do you think you're doing lurking outside doorways?”
“Lurking is underrated. You find out a lot that way,” Fred replied. “Gimme some credit. It's not easy lurking when you're as big as me.”
“I don't know what you think you heard, but none of it's for real,” Jon said. “We're working on a project—”
“A screenplay,” Casey supplied.
“Yeah, we're writing a movie,” Jon said. “And you're not part of the team.”
“Baloney. I'm coming anyway. Brett's my girl,” Fred said.
“She is not,” Casey scoffed.
“Is too.”
“Is not!” Jon said.
“Is too!”
Kira threw up her hands. “Good Solegra! That’s enough! Men are no different in this dimension than in mine! Maybe we could use his help, Jon.”
“I'm not going to let Fred bully his way in!” Jon exclaimed.
“Warlord Mandral is a bully. Sometimes it takes a bully to fight one,” Kira said.
“When she's right, she's right, pal,” Fred smirked. “And I’m the biggest bully out there—you’ve said so yourself.”
Jon shook his head. “No. Not going to happen.”
“Either I'm coming with you, or I'm going to tell everyone at school you're psycho.”
“Better watch it, Fred. That move backfired on you last time,” Casey said.
“With Brett missing, it'll be real interesting to people that JonBoy thinks he's a magician,” Fred replied.
“Wizard,” Jon spat.
“You seem like a magician to me, making all sorts of people disappear like rabbits.”
Even as Jon stared Fred down, he was forced to admit Kira had a point. If they were to affect a rescue mission from Mandral's castle, they could use the muscle. Fred certainly wouldn't have been Jon’s first choice, but on the other hand, he was motivated.
“You've got to do what I say, when I say it, Fred Spencer,” Jon said. “I don't think you've got the chops.”
“Try me,” he shot back.
****
“Let me out of here!” Brett yelled.
Her voice echoed off the crystalline walls of Efysian's cavern, deep inside Wolf Mountain. Imprisoned in a cage fashioned out of a huge, severed dragon claw, she was helpless to do much more than shout. When the Wolf Clan wizard finally stepped into view, he was clad in long black robes. She was unsure whether to laugh or scream, but she refused to be cowed. “What's this? It's too early for trick or treat.”
“I did hear you were as sharp of tongue as you are beautiful,” Efysian smirked.
“You're a sick perv, even if you are Jon's dad.”
“I am not his father, although I will soon be his master.”
“Huh? Oh, I get it,” Brett said. “This is some kind of 'Dungeons and Dorks' role-playing game, right?”
“Warlord Mandral will require proof I have you,” Efysian said.
He waved his fingers and a lock of Brett's hair materialized in his hand. Gasping, Brett felt her hair as she tried to locate where the missing chunk had come from. “You creep! I’m going to make sure you are so arrested and so convicted of assault and kidnapping and whatever else I can think of. Then I'm going to sue you for—”
“Conundrum!”
A faint snarling bark answered Efysian's command. As it drew closer, the bark sounded more like a pack of dogs. When Conundrum appeared, Brett shrank against the rock wall. The wolf's lips drew back over the biggest, most pointed teeth she’d ever seen outside a zoo. She swallowed hard.
“Guard Kira until I return, Conundrum,” Efysian commanded.
“Your freak show doesn't scare me,” Brett bluffed.
“It should,” Efysian replied.
The wizard's robes swirled as he left the chamber.
“And my name's not Kira,” she muttered.
After she was certain Efysian was gone, Brett canvassed the cage for a means of escape. The dragon claw imprisoning her was wedged into the stone floor, but she noticed a small opening next to the wall. If she were careful, she might be able to slide through. When she stepped toward the opening, Conundrum howled with rage. Brett blanched.
“Nice d-d-doggy,” she stammered. “It doesn't have to be this way, you know. I like animals. Our school mascot is the wolverine.”
Conundrum growled and curled his lips.
Brett cleared her throat. “Do you like music?”
The wolf made no response, so she took a deep breath and began a lullaby. Conundrum went on a rampage. He jumped toward the cage, his claws scrabbling against the bars. Saliva dripped from his mouth, and in his fury, Brett was sprayed with spittle. She lost her temper.
“Oh, gross!” she yelled. “You're a very bad, nasty, stinking, yapping dog. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, trying to scare me like this! Keep your vile spit in your own mouth! Either behave yourself or go play on the highway!”
Her volume increased as she went along, heedless of the consequences. After Brett finished her rant, dead silence ensued. Conundrum's head dipped as he stared at her, as if waiting for her to start yelling again. When Brett glared and stamped her foot, Conundrum put his tail between his legs and fled. The wolf made a beeline through the cavern, dodging stalagmites and low-hanging stalactites. He leaped toward a solid rock face under a fistlike outcropping of rock. To Brett's amazement, the beast went through the wall. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, but the wolf had disappeared. She was completely alone, and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
****
Warlord Mandral dictated orders to Minister Tyrg, his voice echoing off the walls of his throne room. Although the chamber was empty of the usual well-tiled citizenry, several cases of kelderberry wine were stacked nearby. “Deliver the wine to Warlord Gnoam personally,” Mandral said. “Convey my best wishes on the occasion of the upcoming Gnoamian Festival of Celebration.”
“How unusually conciliatory, Warlord,” said Tyrg. “Is this some kind of peace offering?”
Mandral smirked in response. “The wine is poisoned, of course. Inform Captain Isore he will lead a strike in the early morning hours after the festival, when the Gnoamians will all be drunk dead.”
Tyrg laughed at Mandral's quip. “Very clever.”
“And summon Efysian. I must eliminate the Imps guarding Gnoam Territory. One of the blasted goblins bit my finger at Gnoam's last wedding, and all I did was kiss the bride.”
Tyrg sniggered. Suddenly Efysian transported into the middle of the throne room.
“Speak of the devil,” Mandral said.
Efysian inclined his head as if to acknowledge the compliment. “Why, thank you.”
“I require your assistance in a political intrigue I am planning,” Mandral said.
“What a coincidence, Warlord, since I am here for the same reason.”
“What are you going on about?” Mandral said, annoyed.
“I have Kira,” Efysian said.
“Excellent. Bring her to me at once.”
“I cannot ensure her safety if I do,” Efysian replied. “Jon Hansen has formed a strong attachment. He will come looking for her.”
“You said the boy was insignificant. If he shows up, I’ll kill him.”
“I think not. You will detain him and turn him over to me. Otherwise, you'll never see Kira again,” Efysian said.
Mandral jumped to his feet and drew his dagge
r. “How dare you threaten me, Efysian. We have an alliance!”
Two cygards clattered through the throne room, angling toward the Wolf Clan wizard. The yellow eyes on Efysian's ring gleamed. With a swift movement of the wizard’s hands, the cygards were thrown back against the wall. Seemingly pinned there by some invisible force, they were unable to move. Mandral’s jaws clenched with anger, but he was forced to sheath his weapon.
“We still have an alliance…of sorts. As long as we understand one another,” Efysian said.
“If the boy possesses a transporter cuff, I cannot hold him even if I wished to,” Mandral snarled.
Efysian pulled Brett’s lock of hair from his robe. “Show him this as proof you have Kira. Tell him she will die if he tries to escape. It will be true enough.”
Efysian sent the hair floating toward Mandral. When he saw the blonde color, Minister Tyrg shook his head. “But that’s not—”
“That’s not fair,” Mandral interrupted. He gave Tyrg a quelling glance as he grasped the suspended lock of hair in his fist. “Make sure you keep your bargain, Efysian, or you will regret it.”
Efysian bowed a deep, gracious bow and transported away. As he disappeared, the cygards clattered to the ground. Mandral absently stroked the shiny lock of hair with his fingers.
“Efysian must want the boy very badly to blackmail me,” he mused. “I want to know why.”
“But Efysian is mistaken. He doesn’t have Kira at all!” Tyrg exclaimed.
“Obviously not. But he believes he does.” Mandral thought for a moment. “Save the poisoned wine for some other occasion and send Warlord Gnoam ten cases of my finest vintage instead. I need his help. And find out everything you can about the Dragon Clan.”
“I thought it had died out long ago,” Tyrg said.
“They say dragons never truly die,” Mandral said. “No matter how many times you kill them.”
****
Jon and his friends assembled in his living room as they prepared to transport to Yden. Fred had changed out of his football gear and was munching on a fast-food burger. Casey had a backpack slung over his shoulder. Kira stood patiently nearby while Mrs. Hansen tried to convince her son to wait. “You’re only a kid, Jon. You're up against warlords, wizards, and monsters, and you don't even know how to use your powers yet.”
“That’s why I need help, Mom,” Jon replied. “This is Casey Scott, the smartest guy at school. You've already met Fred Spencer—he‘s the toughest.”
Fred's chest puffed out as Jon spoke. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Jon would have laughed.
“Mrs. Hansen, I'm gonna look after him,” Fred said with a swagger. “No sweat.”
“I have to deal with this right now or Efysian might come for you next...or Sela,” Jon said. “Please understand.”
Sela popped up from her hiding place behind the sofa, armed with a pink overnight bag. “I’m going, too!”
“Absolutely not, Sela,” Mrs. Hansen said. “I forbid it.”
“Next time, squirt,” Jon told his sister.
His knapsack held his pocket notebook, a set of pencils, some marking pens, chocolate, a bar of soap, a water bottle, and a quantity of cereal bars. Jon hadn't bothered to change out of his street clothes. He was unable to outfit Fred and Casey properly on such short notice, and Kira’s Yden clothes had burned in the car crash. Besides, this was no clandestine mission; it was combat. Ophelia gleamed in anticipation, eager for the journey.
Jon gave his mother a hug. “Trust me. We'll bring both of them home.”
Kira pressed a stack of money and a plastic envelope full of raw diamonds into Mrs. Hansen's hand. “I’ve no need of parchments on Yden. And these diamonds are quite valuable here on Yrth. Please take what you need to pay my hospital expenses and for Dorsit’s continued excellent care.”
Although Sela gaped at the money, Mrs. Hansen was too upset to respond. Jon slipped his transporter cuff around his left wrist and faced the others. “I guess I'm ready,” he said. He stuck his right fist out. “Grab my wrist, Kira.”
After Kira wrapped her fingers around Jon’s wrist, Fred wrapped his fingers around hers. “Huddle time,” he said.
Casey came last, and as Jon wrapped his fingers around his wrist they formed a square. Jon closed his eyes and concentrated on Ophelia. Take me to Mandral's dungeon, he thought. Ophelia's glow grew brighter and brighter until a flash of light and the sound of a far-off thunderclap split the room. Then they were gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Drawn to Dragons
Since Yden's suns had not yet risen, no light alleviated the utter blackness of the dungeon. Jon couldn't even get any help from Ophelia. For some reason, her eyes were dull.
“Anybody got a match?” Fred asked.
“Hang on,” Casey said. “I brought a flashlight.”
Jon heard Casey fumbling with his backpack in the dark. Finally, Casey managed to turn his flashlight on. The light illuminated their four faces with a somewhat sinister glow.
“Looks like we're all here,” Jon said.
Kira sidled up to the door to listen. “Put out the light. Someone approaches.”
Two cygards were patrolling the dungeon hallways, their deep voices echoing off the stone walls.
“For Solegra's sake, conjure me a weapon, wizard!” Kira whispered.
Jon plunged his hand into his knapsack and grabbed the first writing instrument he could find...a marking pen. He uncapped it and began to draw a sword on the wall of the dungeon. It wasn't easy drawing on the rough surface of the stone, especially in the dark, but Ophelia gave him a sort of second sight that guided his hand. In a few seconds, he’d sketched an ornate broadsword he’d seen in a movie once...but nothing happened.
“It's not working!” Jon whispered.
A cygard voice growled outside the cell door. “Open this one up.”
“What for? It's empty,” came the reply.
“Tell that to the newtics.”
The popping of the newtic-riddled straw had given them away. Jon stared at the dungeon door in horror as he heard the metal bar sliding back. Next came the rasp of a key in the lock, and the dungeon door swung open. Torchlight illuminated the cell, revealing their presence. Two cygards stared at them in surprise. “Well, what do we got here?”
The cygard unhooked the ax from his belt while his companion swung his metal prod in a menacing fashion. “New toys,” he chuckled.
With a mighty yell, Kira rushed forward, sword in hand at last. The sword made a whooshing sound, and then two severed cygard helmets rolled to a stop at Jon’s feet. Swallowing hard, Jon tried not to look down. Even Fred shuddered and stepped a few paces away.
Kira wiped her sword on the body of one of the dead cygards and examined the weapon. “It’s not perfectly balanced,” she observed. “But it’s a serviceable blade.”
“Um…thanks,” Jon said. “For a minute there I was afraid I’d run out of magic.”
Casey took the sword from her to have a closer look. “Interesting. This has cohesive mass where there was none before.”
“Speak English,” Fred said.
“A moment ago it didn’t exist. And now it does...because Jon drew it,” Casey replied.
Fred gawked. “That's the coolest thing I ever heard of. Can you draw me a ’67 Mustang?”
Jon retrieved the ring of keys from the dungeon door lock. “Brett might be down here. Let's search.”
They unlocked every door in the entire dungeon. Except for newtics, however, all the cells were empty. Kira shook her head, confused. “How strange. Mandral usually has dozens of unfortunates locked up. He is brutal and arbitrary, and most in his territory hate him.”
A silky voice floated down the passageway. “That’s no way to talk about your bridegroom,” Mandral said.
Flanked by a half dozen cygards, the warlord blocked the stairs leading to the main level. With a fierce warrior cry, Kira pointed her sword at him and took a fighting stance.
Mandral sighed and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Put down your sword, girl. I have no reason to fight with you,” he said, glancing at the headless cygard bodies sprawled in the dungeon doorway nearby. “Although I must protest your treatment of my guards.”
Despite the warlord’s words, Kira didn’t move a muscle.
Mandral shot a pointed look at Jon. “I know where your friend is…the one with hair the color of Solegra. If you want to see her alive, follow me.”
The cygards trailed Mandral up the steps, leaving Jon, Kira, Fred, and Casey alone.
“It’s a trap,” Kira said.