by Bryan Davis
Arramos’s voice deepened to a growl. “Tell me.”
“The woman, Angel they call her, joined the wall of flame. Mardon analyzed the data streaming through our cross-dimensional viewer, and, for some reason, Abraham and Angel together are able to sustain energy far longer than simple mathematics would suggest. The fuel for the boundary could last four years or more.”
“Four years?” The dragon’s eyes flared. “Can Mardon and the slayer keep the dragons on the run for that long?”
“Not likely. As soon as one of them learns she is being chased by a dead scientist and a floating bauble, she and the rest will come out of hiding, and Second Eden will be flooded with dragons.”
“Then let us end the charade.” Arramos backed away. “Meet me at the chasm with Mardon.”
Semiramis rose to her feet. “Of course, my lord, but may I ask what you’re planning?”
“The garden has already reconstituted dragons. I know for a fact that it will also reconstitute a human, and we have one who needs a body.”
“But Clefspeare and Roxil had a body already. They merely needed to be transformed. Creating a new body will take more time.”
“We have time.” Arramos raised a foreleg. A crystalline bauble, semitransparent and glowing, floated above his clawed hand. “Seeds germinate. Seedlings grow. Then the harvest. Four years should be enough.”
“What of your plan to hold Bonnie Silver hostage?” Semiramis asked. “Using her finger to chill their hearts was a stroke of genius. It can still be harvested.”
A low chuckle rumbled from the dragon’s throat. “When that self-righteous little vixen finally enters Second Eden, she will be Devin’s first victim. I am sure he will be happy to begin his new war against dragonkind by slicing her apart bit by bit.”
“At the risk of testing your patience with yet another question, my lord, what of my son? He has been a faithful servant to both of us.”
“We will send him, as well. Someone needs to plant our seed in the garden.”
As Semiramis gazed into the candle’s flame, she slowed her words. “I told him he could not survive in that world, that being dead on Earth made it impossible for him to leave Hades.”
“There is a way. Since you have been watching the proceedings in Second Eden, I thought you might have discerned it by now and tried to go there yourself.”
Semiramis folded her hands on the table. “I … I see once again that I lack your wisdom. I would very much like for us to go to Second Eden together.”
“There is no need to try to flatter me. I will see to your safe journey there. With both of you living outside of Abraham’s wall, we will have the spies we need. Devin will surely rise again.”
“Mardon will need an appropriate disguise. The Oracles know him and will not be duped easily.”
“I will take care of disguises, as well. Just guide him to the chasm’s bridge during Second Eden’s next eclipse cycle, and I will arrange the rest.” Arramos unfurled his wings, creating a draft that blew out the candle. Now in total darkness, his voice seemed lower and more menacing than ever. “Devin the dragon slayer must live again and stalk the land of Second Eden. And he will need no disguise.”
Bonnie sat between Sapphira and Shiloh. With an old journal open over her lap, and their bare feet dangling in the hot spring’s bubbling pool, everything was perfect for a nice long reading session. The ovulum, sitting in Sapphira’s open palm, gave them just enough light to see each other’s faces. It would be fun trading stares and smiles in the wash of red light, especially as Bonnie read out loud about her many harrowing adventures.
She turned the page to a very special entry in one of her older journals. “This is what I wrote right before the dragon slayer killed my mother. Earlier that day, my father had drawn blood from me, even though he had promised so many times never to do it again. After he took it and sent me away, I felt … well …” She pulled the journal closer so she could make out her cursive script in the dim glow. “If I just read it, I think you’ll understand.”
She took a deep breath and began, “I descended into the shadowlands today. A specter of fear wrapped his cold, cruel fingers around my heart and led me into his chamber of treachery, a sanitary cube of torment that once again enclosed my mind in darkness. Can any instrument of torture deliver cruelty as savage as love betrayed? Does a dungeon’s rack stretch a body as sadistically as betrayal stretches trust? Can faith endure a traitor’s sinister hand as it turns the wheel, each notch testing conviction until the sword of despair separates peace from its rightful habitat?”
As Bonnie read, Sapphira smiled and nodded, acknowledging that she had seen this entry before. Shiloh sat agape, gasping at times, and tearing up at others. With both girls paying such rapt attention, this gathering seemed more like a slumber party than an exile in the underworld.
Finally, Bonnie took in another breath and finished the entry. “And now I see it. I can give you nothing that you have not already given to me. I am purchased, a slave of love. I am your vessel to be used in whatever way you wish. If you make me an urn for ashes, a common earthen jar to bear incinerated bones, leaving me to collect dust in a forgotten tomb, even then, I will be content. For just as you would not leave your son forever in the ground, I know you will raise me up from the land of the dead. You have not ignited this fire in my heart to be wasted in Sheol’s pit. Though dead, buried, and forgotten, I will rise again.”
She closed the journal and quoted the remaining words from memory. “No matter what happens, I will never forsake you, for you will never forsake me. You are with me, no matter where I go.”
“That was so beautiful,” Shiloh said, wiping a tear away. “I know exactly how you felt.”
Bonnie took Shiloh’s hand and moved it to her lap. “After forty years in the sixth circle, I’m sure you do.” Pulling Sapphira’s hand to join hers and Shiloh’s, she added, “And who knows loneliness better than you?”
“I can’t argue with that.” Sapphira tightened her grip on Bonnie’s fingers. “No matter how long it takes, we can do this.”
Shiloh tightened her grip, as well. “We’ll face dragons, giants, slayers, and even the devil himself if we have to.”
Bonnie wrapped her wings around Sapphira and Shiloh and pulled them close. “As long as we’re together, we can face anything.”
Epilogue
Sitting on an egg crate near a wall in an abandoned warehouse, Rebekah held a handwritten letter close to her eyes. Dallas, her aunt, though more like a sister than an aunt, sat on a similar crate, leaning her head close to Rebekah’s. With raven locks spilling from under a wide-brimmed hat, dark glasses spanning her eyes, a black leather purse on her lap, and her trench coat collar pulled up high, Dallas looked more like a secret agent than a former dragon.
Rebekah squinted at the hastily written script, angling the page toward a row of dirty windows to gain better light. “I received Valcor’s note this morning. The slayer is definitely on the move, so Valcor wants us to locate and warn the others.”
Dallas removed her sunglasses and leaned toward the letter. “Does he know where they are?”
“Four of them, but he considered it too risky to write down their whereabouts. Since they lacked fluency in any modern language, he escorted them back to England and settled them into separate hideouts where they could study the culture. He instructed us to go to West Virginia where we will find their addresses in a secure file in a supercomputer named Larry.”
“Supercomputer?”
“A new invention. I will have to explain some other time.”
“Soon, I hope.” Dallas pulled a cell phone from her purse. “I still have to figure out how to use this.”
“I will teach you that, as well, but we must finish our business here.” Rebekah pushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes and reached for a handbag on the floor. “I started my own list of surviving dragons.”
“I know Yellinia went with Valcor,” Dallas said. “She and Martine
sse.”
“A good start.” Rebekah pulled a pen and spiral notebook from her bag, opened it to the first page, and silently read the first two lines.
Legossi: Rebekah (Boston, MA)
Firedda: Dallas (Boston, MA)
On the next two lines, she wrote:
Yellinia: Dorian (London, England)
Martinesse: Jordan (London, England)
“According to Valcor, we need not concern ourselves about Clefspeare, Hartanna, or your mother.” She tapped her chin with her pen. “What about your other sisters?”
Dallas raised two fingers and lowered them as she counted off her siblings. “Sorentine wanted to travel north, perhaps to Canada. For some strange reason, she loves cold weather. And I think Alithia said something about staying with your sister in Scotland.”
“I remember that. They must be the other two Valcor took with him.” Rebekah jotted down the following lines:
Sorentine: Tamara (Somewhere, Canada)
Alithia: Kaylee (Glasgow, Scotland)
Carboni: Elise (Glasgow, Scotland)
As she imagined the locations on a world map, Rebekah nodded. With four of them in the British Isles, perhaps finding everyone would take only weeks rather than months. Yet, who knew when they would have mailing addresses or cell phones? Even with those in place, open communication would be dangerous. Their deaths in the past proved that the slayer was always vigilant. “I could contact them using older dialects,” she said, “but would that help us or make our communication more obvious?”
“I believe we should use modern English and trust them to learn quickly,” Dallas said. “Although the rest of us lack your ability to consume knowledge, we are all very adaptable.”
“Except for Sorentine.”
Dallas sighed. “Yes. Except for Sorentine.”
Rebekah pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her tears. It was time to address the subject she had avoided for too long. “Shall we discuss our younglings?”
“Our younglings?” Dallas raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“The very day the slayer killed us, I was going to tell you.” Rebekah’s throat tightened, but she pressed on in a higher pitch. “I wanted to be sure before I told anyone.”
Dallas grasped her hand. “You were … with child?”
Closing her eyes, Rebekah nodded. Now she could barely speak at all. “Three months.”
“Oh!” Dallas clutched Rebekah’s hand. “I am so sorry!”
Rebekah laid her hand over her abdomen, the very spot Devin had thrust his sword. Could it have been over a hundred years ago? Memories of the horrible pain were still so fresh. As she massaged the point of entry, a sudden feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her. Tears flowed. She couldn’t go on.
“You need not speak,” Dallas said. “The pain of losing your only child is too tragic for words.”
Rebekah nodded her thankfulness.
“I was wondering,” Dallas continued, “if my youngling might still be alive. Humans rarely live that long, at least not since the times of the patriarchs.”
Rebekah pulled a tissue from her handbag and dabbed her eyes. After almost a minute, her throat loosened. “It is possible. When Alithia’s son went into hiding, he was over one hundred years old, so your daughter might well be alive.”
Dallas squinted at the ceiling, moving her lips as if counting. “Assuming she escaped the slayer and survived this long, Mariel would be …” She looked at Rebekah again. “One hundred thirty-seven years old.”
“So our search will include her and …” Rebekah tapped her chin, trying to remember Alithia’s son’s name.
“Thomas,” Dallas said.
“Please pardon my memory loss, but I seem to remember one other youngling. Did Sorentine give birth?”
“I never heard. She died so soon, I often wondered. At the time of our transformation, she was far enough along in her pregnancy, so she could have delivered before Devin killed her. But delivered what? Was her little one transformed within her?”
Rebekah let a thin smile emerge. “Sorentine was within a week of delivering when Merlin brought the wine to Bald Top. Gartrand was such a proud father, he counted the days.”
“Your brother was one to boast—” Dallas held a hand over her mouth. “I apologize. My insensitive ways are not helpful.”
Rebekah waved a hand. “No need. I know his folly all too well.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment. As Dallas’s eyes filled with tears, she sighed. “So many heartaches.”
Rebekah read her aunt’s face. She knew. Everyone knew. Sorentine had made many judgment errors. Going through the covenant veil with Gartrand had been Sorentine’s most obvious blunder, but her lack of care in staying away from the slayer had cost her her life soon after her transformation and had inadvertently given the slayer knowledge that helped him track down the remaining dragons. “Since we have no way to search for Sorentine’s youngling, we will confine our efforts to the known dragons and offspring. Agreed?”
Dallas nodded. “Agreed.”
Grabbing her handbag, Rebekah rose to her feet. “Have you learned how to drive?”
Dallas’s eyes shot open. “In so few days? In Boston? Without a car?”
“Do you remember the silver dollar from our cache the dealer made such a fuss about?”
“Indeed. He was not a skilled barterer, was he? He practically drooled.”
“We settled on a payment this morning. I now have a sports utility vehicle and all the supplies we need to go to West Virginia.”
Dallas looked at the ceiling again, a coy grin on her face. “What words did they use in that movie last night?”
“Road trip.” Rebekah reached for her hand. “Let’s hit the road.”
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