Circles of Seven

by Bryan Davis

  “And that’s what made dragons evil,” Palin added.

  “If you mean that they began to serve my master, yes, most turned to our side. But a few were protected from the Nephilim, and they remained our enemies.” She rubbed Palin’s hair like she might a child’s and laughed. “What’s so comical is that you hunted dragons with Devin, thinking all dragons were evil, while Devin had a different agenda. You see, I prophesied that when the last dragon was eliminated, Devin would become like one of the Nephilim and help me rule the world. As he learned our ancient crafts, he became more and more like us, able to wield power and influence among the feebleminded. And being infused with the power of dragon blood, he lived an unnaturally long life. Devin has survived the passing of his body, and like one of the fallen spirits, he awaited a new body.”

  Morgan chucked Palin’s chin. “But what you didn’t realize, was that when I sent you and Devin out to kill dragons, I really wanted you to kill the so-called good dragons. If you eliminated some of my pets along with them, it would be worth the effort. I knew that only the good dragons could prevent the Watchers from ruling the world once I set them free, so I chalked up my losses to what you might call a ‘queen’s gambit.’”

  Palin gripped the hilt of his sword and tightened his fingers around it. “So you just used me like a pawn for over a thousand years?”

  Morgan pressed her palms on his temples and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. “Exactly, my dear Palin, but you received your reward. I showed you how to live through it all. Even now, because you also took dragon blood for so long, you have become a wraith like me, and you’re safe from the judgment seat . . . at least for now. When my plans succeed, you will be restored to the earth to serve me once again.”

  Palin loosened his grip on his sword. “And if you fail?”

  Morgan drew back. A frown deepened her sunken cheeks, and she punctuated each word with venom. “I . . . will . . . not . . . fail!”

  “But your plans count on Clefspeare betraying his own son. How can you be sure he’ll do it?”

  Morgan spread her hands horizontally, palms up, and interlocked her “pinkie” fingers. A puff of black smoke arose from her skin and formed into the shape of a dragon. A pair of wings flapped slowly on the back of the six-inch effigy as it hovered over her hands. “Like all dragons, Clefspeare trusts in the old ways—in nature, in earthly forces that came into being by the Maker’s hand. He trusts in fire and scales, in claws and teeth. What he doesn’t realize is that the ways of the earth are my ways, so his scales cannot protect him here.” She clapped her hands together. The dragon crumbled into a shower of fine dust, and her evil grin returned, pushing dimples into her ashen face. “You will see. Clefspeare will unsheathe my greatest weapon and administer young Arthur’s final test.”

  Chapter 20

  BLASTING THROUGH

  Ashley used one finger to tap the keys on her computer. “Okay, Apollo’s moving, so we can assume Walter picked it up. That’s cool, because it means we can follow his progress.” She cocked her head to one side. “What was that? . . . A scream?”

  The professor took three quick steps up the tor’s slope. “I heard a scream, but there is no one around, not even any sightseers.”

  “That’s odd.” Ashley leaned closer to the computer. “For some reason, all the signals are getting clearer. I wonder if—” A sudden gust of wind blew Ashley’s hair over her face. It continued in bursts, beating on her like a helicopter’s downdraft.

  Shiloh hunkered behind Ashley. “Don’t worry,” Ashley said. “It’s okay. It’s our friend Hartanna.”

  The great she-dragon landed softly on the tor’s slope, her claws digging into the turf. She growled softly. “Clefspeare is near. I can feel it. I tracked the sensation to this haunted hill.”

  “Did anyone see you?” the professor asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. At least five people were ascending the tor from the other side. They screamed and ran away, but a boy had a camera. I fear he may have taken a picture of me.” She stretched her long neck toward the professor. “I assume you are here for the same reason I am. Do you know where Clefspeare is?”

  The professor shook his head. “No. Our search has also led us to the tor, as you assumed. It’s a long story, but there is a portal to another dimension here, and we believe Clefspeare may be within it. Billy and Bonnie are also there . . . at least Bonnie was there.”

  “Was there?” Hartanna repeated.

  The professor grasped his jacket lapels, then parted his lips as if to reply, but nothing came out. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes.

  Hartanna’s growl deepened. “What happened to Bonnie?”

  Marilyn placed a hand on Hartanna’s flank, her own voice shaking. “We’re not sure how.” She gulped and took a deep breath. “But . . . she . . . passed away.”

  Hartanna whispered, “What?” Her eyes flamed red, and she shouted, “She died?!” She lifted her head high and let out a thunderous roar. Deep sobs wrenched her head up and down, and her entire body heaved. Marilyn laid her cheek on Hartanna’s side and stretched her arms over her scales, moving with the dragon’s rhythmic mourning.

  While Hartanna wept, Shiloh pulled on Ashley’s sleeve from behind, whispering into her ear. “Why is the dragon so upset about Bonnie?”

  Ashley wiped a tear from each eye with the back of her hand. “Hartanna is her mother,” she said softly.

  “Her . . . her mother?” Shiloh sniffed, and her face contorted.

  Ashley put an arm around her shoulder, but when Hartanna’s groans clutched her heart, she stepped in front of Shiloh. “Better not let the dragon see you, at least not yet. Wait till we get a chance to tell her your story.” She glanced back at Shiloh. “Any idea why you look so much like Bonnie?”

  “That’s the part I don’t get. She says we’re cousins, and you think I look like her, but the person I saw was covered with scales.”

  Ashley tilted her head. “Scales?”

  “Yeah. Do you think she changed when she got into the other world?”

  “Maybe. . . . I guess. Barlow didn’t mention that, though.” Ashley straightened her body, trying to make herself a screen for Shiloh. “Just keep your head down. Right now we have to deal with a huge, grieving dragon.”

  Sir Patrick’s voice shrieked from the other side of the bridge. “Billy! Yes, this dragon is your father, but you have to trust me! You must cross the bridge to save yourself and Bonnie! It’s the only way!”

  Clefspeare spun his head and blew a stream of fire at Patrick. “Silence!”

  Patrick covered his face with his cloaked sleeves. The flames splashed on his torso, making the mesh lining glow orange.

  Clefspeare stretched his neck, bringing his head within a dozen feet of Billy. He spoke in a low growl. “Patrick’s way is narrow of mind and focus. He doesn’t understand the ancient ways of the earth.” The wide dragon eyes seemed to soften, and the growl smoothed into a gentle whisper. “If you want to save Bonnie’s life, give her to me. I will take her to someone who can revive her. But we must hurry. Since Bonnie has been dead for so long, time is of the essence.”

  Billy took a step forward but hesitated. “Where are you going to take her?”

  Clefspeare opened his massive claws. “To the mistress of Excalibur, the lady who first gave the sword to Arthur. She understands the healing power of light energy.”

  “Billy!” Patrick yelled. “Don’t listen to him. That woman is your enemy. I don’t know what her plans are, but they can’t be good.”

  Clefspeare blew another stream of fire at Patrick, this time straight at his face. Patrick ducked below the flames, covering his head with his arms.

  “Be gone, you pretender!” the dragon roared. “I’ve had enough of your meddling! Billy doesn’t need to hear you disparaging the lady. He needs to get Bonnie to her, and time is running out.”

  Patrick bolted upright again. “Then he should ask you why you oppose his crossi
ng the bridge. What harm could it do?”

  The dragon swung his head back toward Billy. “It could do great harm. This bridge is the border between mortality and immortality. If you cross it, Bonnie’s fate is sealed. It will not be possible to revive her.”

  “He lies, Billy! The bridge is the only way. Didn’t you see Merlin’s poem? Doesn’t it say, ‘The bridge of faith still lies in wait, the narrow path of answered prayer?’ You have followed Merlin’s path this far. Don’t turn aside now!”

  Clefspeare spat out a baseball-sized sphere of flame, propelling it like a meteor toward Patrick. It grazed his cloak’s sleeve, lighting up the metallic lining around his elbow. The dragon growled. “Look who speaks, a man dressed in the robes of the unrighteous, a New Table knight asking you to obey a false prophet.” The dragon lowered his rumbling voice. “I, too, followed Merlin’s prophecies, far longer than you have. But they failed at every turn.” He extended his neck over the parapet. “Look into the valley and see the results. Merlin’s miracles didn’t save these dragons. They would have been better off keeping their claws and scales and fighting the slayers. Becoming human made them easy prey, and now they are dry bones in this valley of death.”

  Clefspeare lifted his head high, raising his voice as though he wanted Patrick to hear. “I am told that you have seen the letter branded in the skin of every New Table knight. Did anyone tell you what it means?”

  “You mean the M?” Billy replied. “No. No one told me what it stands for.”

  “It stands for Merlin. He fooled me for years, but I discovered that he has been directing the New Table knights all along. How else could they have infiltrated this place so easily? Merlin set a trap to destroy the line of dragons, and his minions have killed Bonnie. Now we must get her to someone who can truly help, a faithful ally of the dragon race.”

  “No, Billy!” Patrick yelled. “The M stands for Morgan, Merlin’s eternal enemy. Merlin is good and noble. You and Professor Hamilton know this to be true. Don’t let this dragon’s cheap trick fool you! The only way to rescue the prisoners in the valley is by crossing the bridge. Search your heart. Let your faith guide you.”

  Billy clenched his fists. “I’m trying to have faith!” he shouted. “But faith in what? How do I know who’s telling the truth?”

  The dragon stepped between Billy and Patrick. “Exactly! Faith in what, indeed! Your faith should be in your strength. Morgan allowed me to watch your accomplishments. In circle after circle you faced a different kind of evil. You overcame temptations so horrible any other human would have given in.” Clefspeare puffed out his chest. “Yes, I saw you outwit the devil and plunge your sword into his heart. I saw you reject a crown of glory on that trail of blood. And would any other young man have turned down Naamah’s advances? Yet, you, my son, remained a solid rock. And when I saw you overcome your rage and defeat Palin face-to-face, I was so proud! You could have made a pincushion out of him, but you granted him mercy.”

  Clefspeare let out a guttural howl, seeming to laugh with joy. “Billy, you are the new King Arthur! Reach out now for his scepter. The world is yours! You have come through victorious, and the winner takes it all!”

  His whole body shaking, Billy dropped to one knee and placed Bonnie gently on the ground, careful to avoid damaging her wings. He raised his hand high. “Just let me think a minute.” He bit his lip hard. Scenes from the seven circles flooded his mind—spearing the heart of the dragon and watching its blood drip to the ground like black tar, spurning the tearful entreaties of the raven-haired crown-bearer as she begged on bended knee, tearing his fragile heart away from the lovely temptress in New Eden’s seductive web, and conquering the scornful warrior, the mocking phantom that haunted his dreams night after night.

  He crossed his arms and squeezed his hardened biceps. He really was strong. He really had won all those battles. Could Clefspeare be right? Could Merlin have fooled everyone? Should he give Bonnie over on the chance that the dragon was telling the truth?

  Bonnie’s head lolled to one side, exposing her ear and a deathly pallid cheek. He leaned close and whispered, sobs breaking through. “I . . . I don’t know what to do. . . . I guess you’ve got good connections where you are now, so . . . so if you can hear me . . . I could sure use some help. I’m . . . I’m not very good at this. I need a sign or something.” A tear dripped from Billy’s eye to Bonnie’s cheek. He brushed it away with a lingering thumb. “You are my virgin bride . . . my immortal beloved.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve and sniffed hard. “Somehow . . . some way . . . we’ll be together again.”

  He straightened his body, ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried to steel himself as he stood and faced Clefspeare again, but his arms and legs quivered. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

  The dragon opened his claws again. “Allow me to take Bonnie to Morgan.”

  Patrick screamed. “No, Billy!” He grabbed the edge of a boulder, his voice faltering. “You . . . must . . . not!”

  Clefspeare extended one of his claws toward Bonnie. “It’s the only way to save her.” He flipped his tail toward the other side of the bridge. “Ask Patrick yourself. Does he know how to bring her back to life?”

  Billy waited for Patrick to answer, but the gray-haired gentleman just leaned heavily on the boulder, his face ashen.

  “You see!” Clefspeare roared. “His silence speaks volumes! I’m telling you to trust in what you have seen, your victories here in the circles, the tests you have passed to prove yourself king. I’m telling you how to save Bonnie’s life. Patrick asks you to sacrifice an innocent lamb, to throw away a precious life just to fulfill an empty promise scrawled on an ancient stone.”

  Patrick struggled to the edge of the bridge, looking weak and frail. “Billy, you do indeed have great power and talents, but have faith in the One who gave them to you. Merlin wouldn’t lie, nor would Professor Hamilton. The bridge is the only way.”

  The dragon launched another ball of fire, missing Patrick by inches. “Back off, pretender, or I will make you a human torch!”

  Patrick tore off his black cloak and stood up straight. “Fire away, Clefspeare. I’m willing to sacrifice myself to make sure Billy sees the light of truth.”

  Billy kicked a pebble at his feet. “You two could argue till Doomsday, and I still wouldn’t know who’s telling the truth. I have a feeling both of you are hiding something. Maybe you’re both lying.”

  Clefspeare unfurled his wings and roared. “I am your father. When have I ever lied to you?”

  Billy stepped back. A surge of heat rushed into his face, and stinging drops of sweat trickled into his eyes. His voice pitched higher. “When have you lied to me?” He bent down and picked up Bonnie again, letting her head droop against his shoulder. His passion erupted in a mournful lament. “My whole life was a lie, and you’re the reason! You should have told me what you were a long time ago!” His tears dripped on Bonnie’s sweatshirt, but he didn’t care. He lowered his voice. “I thought I had forgiven you, but I guess I haven’t.”

  Billy stepped up to the bridge and began crossing the span. Clefspeare blew a lightning stream of fire over his head. “No, Billy! Bonnie’s life is at stake!”

  The heat of the flames radiated over Billy’s face. He halted, anger erupting in his voice. “You said to trust in myself. Are you going to stop me and prove yourself a liar?”

  With a flap of his wings, Clefspeare leaped to the side and perched on the parapet like an enormous vulture, his long neck stretching over the span. “If you want Bonnie to die,” he waved his head toward Patrick, “then proceed.”

  Billy walked slowly forward, glancing up at the dragon’s noble head and fiery eyes. The sun’s rays washed over his reddish scales, making them glisten like sequins. Shadows fell across Billy’s path, outlines of the notches on the parapet. At the crest of the bridge, the sunlit areas of the walkway formed a cross.

  Billy stopped at the center of the bridge and dropped to his knees. He set
Bonnie’s body on the stone surface directly on top of the cross and looked up to the sky. “My decision is to let God take care of her. If He’s going to restore her life, I’m sure He can do it from here.” He cradled Bonnie’s head for a moment, then set it down. “I know I can’t do it.”

  Billy stroked her hair, his hand lingering on a purple bruise on her forehead. He looked up at the dragon, then at Patrick. Both seemed perplexed.

  The dragon let out a long, “Hmmmmm.” He lowered his head and looked Billy in the eye. “So are you giving up all rights to her?”

  “I guess so. I’m not—”

  “That’s all I wanted to hear.” Clefspeare unfurled his wings, then leaped from the parapet and snatched Bonnie up with one motion, wrapping his talons around her body and vaulting into the air.

  The wind from his wings knocked Billy backwards. He grabbed a notch on the parapet as the dragon soared over the valley, making a beeline toward a mountain at the far end of the pass.

  “Billy!” Patrick yelled, his arms waving. “I can’t cross the bridge. You have to follow him!”

  Billy spread out his hands. “What did I do wrong?!”

  “Nothing! You acted in faith, and God will honor that. Now go!”

  Billy sprang back down the arch and dashed across the ledge, his eyes pinned on the flying dragon in the distance. Would he be able to keep up? Would the path lead to a dead end? Billy pumped his arms and sprinted as fast as he could. Path or no path, he would find a way.

  Ashley stood in front of Shiloh, reaching back to hold the girl’s hand. Hartanna had settled down, and Marilyn and the professor knelt near her head, whispering to her.

  Ashley spoke to Shiloh in a hushed tone. “Sounds like they’re explaining how we know Bonnie’s dead, that her light stopped glowing in the sixth circle, and how Barlow was watching through Billy’s belt.”