Awen Rising

by O J Barré

  A tear trickled down each cheek. She sat, miserable and defeated. Her thoughts strayed to yesterday’s storm. Then to previous disasters, especially the ones after her mother’s death. The Hum incidents, starting with Peru and ending two weeks ago here in Buckhead. The earthquake in Vietnam, tremors in Chile and the Andes. The Manhattan Beach storm surge. The mini-tsunami in Seattle. Cyclone Charlotte. And back to yesterday’s humdinger.

  Was she to blame? Had they happened because of her? Maybe. Wainwright’s accusations had forced Emily to look at the disasters in a different context.

  The trees shimmered in the afternoon breeze, filling the alley with a dead-bone clatter. She stared in the distance at an old brick-mill cum fort at the edge of the cemetery. Her doubts weighed heavy upon her. For a moment she let the tears flow. None but the dead would see.

  What if Wainwright and the others were right? What if Emily had created those disasters, even unconsciously? The thought pierced like an arrow. Was she responsible for Trey’s death? Their boss certainly thought so. He’d even fired her.

  What about the people killed yesterday? And the ones who lost everything, businesses and livelihoods shattered and scattered to the four corners by tornadoes?

  Emily sobbed and hiccupped. No way had she done that. No way.

  **

  The force grew in strength, fanning the flame inside Draig a-Ur. It engulfed him and beat against the inner walls of his stone prison. The Awen. She was back.

  Awakened power surged through a-Ur. With a mighty crack, his cocoon shattered into a thousand pieces, shards exploding into the sky. The air dragon tottered on limbs unused to holding his weight. He blinked marble dust from his newly-naked eyes. The fire receded to his belly.

  The sight of the Awen shocked him to full awareness. The youthful druid was seated on a bench, tears streaming down a too-young face, in obvious distress. The dragon blew a breath of welcome in troubled greeting.

  **

  Emily dashed the tears away. She’d had a badly-needed cry, now it was time to get serious and find Hope’s treasures. She rose from the bench and faced south to search the mausoleums. Leaves tumbled toward her on a gust of warm wind and she froze. In front of her was a dragon. A real one.

  Sweat broke cold as the leaves skittered past her down the alleyway. The dragon’s wings were slightly lifted, and it perched on a brick wall, the one delineating the druid section.

  That hadn’t been there before. Of course, Hope’s treasures would be hidden. Emily hadn’t thought of that. She remained rooted, heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, not sure what to do. The beast blinked and Emily stared into eyes of the purest silver.

  A flash of recognition ran between them, surprising Emily. In a twinkling, the dragon’s powerful hindquarters cleared the wall and its nearly-translucent wings propelled it into the sky. Drawn to the place it had vacated, Emily watched it rise in sure, strong strokes. But a powerful downdraft swirled in the dragon’s wake, dragging Emily into the center of its vortex.

  Panicked, she grabbed hold of a gnarled elm towering beside the trail. She wrapped her arms around it so tight that the horny bark cut into her cheek. Her scarlet hair whipped wild in the wind, biting her face and mouth. It was Trey all over, only he wasn’t here to protect her.

  “Trey,” she sobbed, clinging to the elm. Wracking sobs burst from the place where Emily kept the grief locked. The maelstrom gathered and swirled around her, tearing at her from all sides. Then sorrowful anger took grief’s place and hardened into cold fury at a God who’d failed them both.

  “How could you?” she screamed. The wind tore the words from her sun-blistered lips and scattered them to the heavens to disappear with the dragon. But the elm held firm, giving Emily strength. Remembering Aóme, she wiggled the ring onto her finger, raised her trembling fist to the swirling winds and bellowed, “You! Can’t! Have! Me!”

  Abruptly, the fury calmed to a whisper, a puff against Emily’s bark-tattooed cheek.

  Shaken, she let go of the ridged trunk and saw a squiggly marking etched on the bark. She leaned closer to examine what appeared to be an outline of her body. A low laugh rumbled in the recesses of her mind. Then the etching faded, along with the eerie laughter.

  Enough was enough. Emily fled to the Marauder, legs growing stronger with each stride. As did her resolve. She was sick and tired of feeling helpless. It was time to ask for help.

  **

  a-Ur rose on his spiraling updraft, lifting higher with each beat of his wings. Something was wrong with the Awen. It colored her thoughts, keeping them hidden. Rather than recognition, she had reeked of fear.

  Confused, a-Ur had taken flight and then the draft took him, displacing all thoughts save those of the velvety air currents stroking scales that reflected the dragon’s surroundings. Higher and higher a-Ur soared until the lift petered out, dropping him back toward the horizon.

  But the terrain was all wrong. Where there had once been hillocks and countryside, hard surfaces and soaring structures rose from the earth like massive boxes, one atop the other for miles. Gone were fen and meadow, deer and bear. Gone were his lovely moor and the mountain at the edge of the sea. Even the sea had gone missing. What magic had wrought these changes?

  Searching his memory for an explanation, the air dragon found none. Could he have been whisked to this strange place without his knowledge? That would account for the missing ocean. But he’d never seen a land like this. And that was saying a lot; a-Ur had been around since before the humans and lizard men.

  He spied a low, rambling castle in the middle of teeming chaos and landed on the dome. Below the minarets and sweeping archways, the humans scurried. Some were on foot, but most whizzed by in shiny honking metal contraptions that belched and fouled the air.

  All were oblivious to Draig a-Ur. Only the Awen was resistant to the memory curse. Now the Awen had forgotten him, too. A rare tear slid down a-Ur’s horny cheek. He shoved away from the parapet and a blinking light caught his eye.

  “FOX THEATER” shouted the glittering runes.

  Puzzled, the dragon rose into the befouled air. He gazed beyond the borders of the new city to green forests and pastures and smaller edifices. Ribbons clogged with the noxious boxes connected the city to a greening countryside. Out there, a dragon could find food. But first, a-Ur needed information.

  Moral Support

  J ocko’s Pizza was closed for repairs. And noisy. Carpenters and electricians worked side by side amidst the whine of electric tools and pounding hammers. Emily sat near the back, in the booth with the initials carved in the varnish. Her spaghetti was delicious, cooked to perfection, the sauce every bit as tasty as that of Lugh’s pizza. Maybe better—Lugh himself had prepared and delivered it to her table.

  While she ate, Emily rehearsed her news in her head, eager to unload it on a more experienced druid. She had chosen Lugh because he was always in her thoughts. But so what? He was more than a pretty face. He was a priest, even if a new one. That was the highest rank in the druid order.

  Other than grand druid. Plus, Lugh was considered a warrior. One Emily had yet to beat in combat. But more, she trusted him, even though he had a habit of ignoring her. He consistently stood against Wainwright in her favor, too.

  Lugh returned to the table and Emily summoned her nerve. “I have something I need to tell you. Do you have a minute?” His black brows beetled, and Emily feared he would say no. “Please? I need help. And besides, you owe me.”

  He slid onto the opposite bench, rested his elbows on the table, and propped his chin on his clasped hands. “In that case I’m all ears. But first remind me why I owe you?”

  Emily batted mascaraed lashes. “Um. Because I saved Jocko’s from annihilation yesterday?”

  Lugh burst out laughing and tipped his head. “That you did, Miz Hester. Which is why the owner of said establishment defended you against Mister the Third and his hench-people this morning. And is cooking and waiting on you hand and foot, even though Jocko’s i
s closed and in the middle of major repairs. And why your meals are on the house. Like forever.”

  Emily laughed. “That’s not necessary, Lugh.”

  “Oh, but it is. Spill. What’s up?”

  Nervous now, she fidgeted in her seat and glanced at the priest from behind lowered lids. Would he think her crazy? Emily took a steadying breath and straightened. “I came straight here from the cemetery. Oakland Cemetery.”

  His black eyes blinked.

  “After y’all left this morning, Hope sent me there on a treasure hunt. I didn’t find any of the things on her list, but I did see a dragon.” Emily held her breath.

  The priest sat up and dropped his hands in his lap. “You mean the marble dragon above the gate in the Druid section? By Mausoleum Row?”

  “Yes! There!” Emily exclaimed, excited he knew the place. “Only the dragon wasn’t marble. It was real and it looked straight at me, like it wanted me to do or say something.”

  A sharp intake of breath preceded Lugh’s careful response. “Are you sure? The statue is extremely lifelike.”

  “Absolutely sure. Only it was smaller than I thought a dragon would be, maybe the size of a young kangaroo. It had horns, and freaky-long nails, and see-through wings, and its scales reflected the stuff around it. At first, he just sat there on the wall. Then he took off, straight up, in a vertical ascent.” At Lugh’s incredulous stare, Emily added, “I promise. I kid you not.”

  The druid leaned across the booth and spoke slowly, as if choosing his words, “I believe you saw a dragon. But if it was real, you wouldn’t remember. You couldn’t,” he pressed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dragons carry a built-in forgetfulness curse. It is how they survive without detection.”

  Emily’s jaw fell open. “Seriously? Dragons are real?” she squeaked. “They live here?” Something shifted inside her.

  “Yeah, they do. Or did. Who knows if they’re still around? Like I said, everyone forgets, so no one knows. Not for sure. But if they actually do, dragons protect us, not hurt us.”

  “Protect us? From what? Or whom?”

  “Ourselves mostly. And each other.”

  Emily let that sink in. “And they’re small? Like the one I saw?”

  “They can be. Some are the size of Godzilla.” Lugh opened his arms wide in measurement and leaned close again. “What did you do?”

  “I cowered like a cur and watched it fly away.” Remembering, Emily shuddered. “Then I got sucked into its backwash, which was almost as scary as the dragon itself.”

  Lugh’s expression was blank.

  Emily sighed. “The upward spiral of the dragon’s wings created a whirlwind. I got sucked in. Literally.”

  Understanding dawned and the blank eyes grew wide. “Holy shit, Em. What’d you do?”

  Be still my heart. He’d called her Em. “I grabbed a tree and held on for dear life.” She touched her cheek where the faint indentation of the bark still lingered.

  “And the dragon? What happened to it?” Lugh’s tone was still skeptical

  Defensive, she shrugged. “I don’t know. He disappeared before the wind stopped blowing.” That’s all she’d meant to say. The rest slid out. “But when I let go of the tree, I heard laughter. Not out-loud laughter, in-my-head laughter. And I saw an outline of my body on the bark. At least until it disappeared.”

  Emily leaned against the back of the booth, knowing how crazy she sounded. Her cheeks blazed.

  In spite of his obvious incredulity, Lugh remained solicitous, if not a hundred-percent convinced. Encouraged, she swallowed and laid her hand on his. “I know I sound looney tunes. But I swear to you. There is a very real dragon on the loose in Atlanta.”

  A black-haired teen burst through the swinging doors and hurried toward the table. Emily grinned. It was Lugh’s nephew, Brian. And he looked enough like Lugh to be his son.

  “Brian,” she crowed. “It’s good to see you again. How’s your back?”

  “Fine,” he sniffed. “How’s your boob?” Lugh’s eyes narrowed.

  Emily laughed. “It’s okay. Thank you again for showing me the way home my first night in Atlanta.”

  Lugh looked from Emily to Brian.

  “I told you about it,” Brian said defensively. “I was walking Cu, remember?” His uncle’s glare didn’t waver. “The lady that saved my life?”

  Lugh’s frown changed to a surprised smile. “That was you?”

  Emily nodded.

  “You did not tell me it was Emily Hester. That I would’ve remembered.” He winked at Emily and smirked. “But what was that thing about your boob?” She could feel the heat rise in her neck and color her face.

  “W-we fell when I tackled him. Cu tangled us up in his leash. Brian tried to stand and fell on me. Elbow-first.” She put a hand to her breast.

  “Ouch,” Lugh said.

  “Ouch indeed. But no harm, no foul. We both made it home safely and that’s what counts.”

  “Uncle Lugh,” the teen interrupted, running a restless hand through shaggy black hair that gleamed with cobalt highlights and fell in natural curls around a narrow face. “Stan needs you in the kitchen.” He glanced at Emily and winked, ever so slightly.

  Lugh’s smile was tight. “I’ll be there in two shakes.”

  Brian sniffed and nodded at Emily, “See ya.”

  “See ya,” Emily said as he sauntered back to the kitchen with a speculative look over one shoulder.

  Lugh leaned close. “Sorry for the interruption. But, back to the dragon. Have you told anyone else?”

  Emily shook her head. “No, I came straight here.”

  “Let me do some checking. Or better yet…” There was a gleam in his eyes. “Would you be willing to go back to the cemetery?”

  “With you? Sure. When were you thinking?”

  “It’ll be dark in an hour.” Lugh stroked his chin as if hatching a plot. “If you’re done eating, we could go now. They don’t need me here and it shouldn’t take long. We can drop Brian home on the way.”

  Though Emily dreaded going back to the cemetery, a thrill went through her at the prospect of going there with Lugh. “Sure. And I can drop Da’s car at Wren’s Roost, so we don’t have to do it later.”

  “Perfect. Stay right here, I’ll be back in a few.” Lugh scooped up her dishes and headed for the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. “Are we still on for our trip to Zoo Atlanta?” He pointed at her, then at himself. “You and me? And Willie D?”

  “Oh crap, I forgot.” She slapped her hand on the table. “Finn called. Da finally comes home tomorrow. Could we make it next week?”

  **

  a-Ur traced a data feed to the Georgia Institute of Technology and extracted the information he needed—a millennium’s worth according to an enormous sign with fluctuating, flashing runes that told a-Ur he was in a land called Atlanta. Last time he had looked at a map, there was no such place. Of course, a lot would change in a thousand years.

  The up-link provided a summary of global history, enough to flesh out a-Ur’s memories and bring him current on human events. But not to answer his most burning questions. Like why the Awen had no memory of a-Ur. Why he couldn’t remember the last thousand years. And why a-Ur had ended up in a foreign land encased in stone guarding a cemetery. A cemetery, of all things.

  Buildings, interstates, highways, and roads spread before Draig a-Ur. He circled Atlanta, keeping his wing strokes gentle so as not to affect the weather. Wind brought clouds, clouds brought rain. And while a-Ur could use a good soaking—it had been way too long since he’d had one and he longed to be rid of the marble dust—now was not the time. Plus, with limited visibility, a-Ur could easily become entangled in the wires strung everywhere by the crazed humans.

  a-Ur shook his head. The static from their cell and radio towers, mixed with the microwaves and the signals bouncing from hundreds of thousands of flea-like satellites, tickled his ears and set his teeth on edge. Luckily, his dragon scal
es acted as an interstellar filter, protecting a-Ur from the worst of the damaging rays.

  Intuition told him he was near a dragon line, or ley line as they were apparently called today. He could follow it to the nearest vortex and catch a wormhole back to the Isle of Beli. The countryside along the way would provide for a-Ur’s appetite. Already he had doubled in size, though he’d had to eat a human to get there. A vile creature intent on beating another to death in a back alley. Like most dragons, a-Ur avoided human flesh, preferring four-legged animals with less fat and more meat. But he needed the energy from food to get to Tara.

  In Tara, the dragons’ gathering place, a-Ur would get the answers he needed. Though Beli was no longer listed on the world map, Britain and Wales remained.

  A deep sense of urgency impelled a-Ur to veer southeast. Time was running out. He wasn’t sure how or why he knew this, but the world would soon end. And only the Awen could prevent the catastrophe. a-Ur was supposed to help, but the whys and wherefores lay hidden from the air dragon’s usual crystalline sight.

  **

  “It’s gone.” Lugh had wanted to believe, had tried to believe, or at least to withhold judgment, but until this very moment, he had failed. The dragon had vanished, just as Emily said. Marble dust surrounded the spot the statue had occupied, guarding the druids of Oakland Cemetery for at least two freaking centuries.

  Lugh shook his head. The dragon was gone. Vanished. Caput. Nothing left but dust and shards. Troubled, he laid his hand on the bare brick where the dragon statue had crouched for the entirety of Lugh’s life. It felt strangely warm in the cool evening air.

  Several plots away, Emily inspected the Ravinski headstone. The delight on her face did something to Lugh’s stomach, something he’d never felt. Before he could decipher it, she glanced up and shot him one of those killer grins and his belly flip-flopped. Emily waved.

  “I found Hope’s treasure. Well, one of them. Now I know where to find the rest.” She pointed her chin toward the empty ledge. “So, what’s your take on that?”