Awen Storm

by O J Barré

  The dragon roared, long and loud, then lowered her jeweled head to stare at him “You had one task. One tiny task. Now you’ve lost the Awen. Do you have any idea how long it took to find her in the first place?” Her angry roar shook the back porch.

  Khenko hung his head. The drizzle turned to rain that pelted the tin roof. “Yes, and I’m sorry,” he said over the noise. “I know you’re worried, Talav. I’m worried, too.”

  The dragon’s new face horns stood erect. “As well you should be, young stork.” Khenko had never seen them do that before. “The Awen could teach you a thing or two. She contacted us before you did. Ooschu and a-Ur are on their way to rescue her.”

  “To where? Where is she?”

  “On a boat heading toward the big island.” Talav shook her mighty head, drenching Khenko. “The witch named Shalane and a local man have her bound and gagged. The witch has a grudge, and is up to no good.”

  Mentally chastising himself, Khenko turned toward the kitchen to grab his slicker and the keys to his boat.

  “No, healer. You will stay here with me. The Awen may require your care when they return.”

  “But I don’t understand. How did Shalane get to Emily? She was with us.”

  Something crept into Khenko’s memory. The sultry singer with long, black hair had interrupted the card game to ask about Emily. After that, he had forgotten all about Emily until the game was over.

  How long ago had that been? They could already be in Nassau by now.

  **

  Surfacing, Ooschu spied the boat and swam faster. Far above him, a-Ur soared. As they approached the watercraft, a-Ur dropped lower. Together they closed on the kidnappers.

  Pulling flush with the speeding craft, Ooschu signaled readiness. Seconds later, the air dragon dove in a whistling trajectory to snatch the Awen from the prow, then flapped its wings to disappear behind a cloud.

  Taking his cue, Ooschu lunged beneath the boat and came up quickly, catapulting the vessel out of the water. The powerful motor growled as the boat somersaulted end-over-end. The Awen’s kidnappers flew clear, their screams abruptly ending when they hit the waves. Then, the boat crashed upside down, sending a plume of seawater sky-high.

  Ooschu ducked beneath the waves and swam for Zephyr Cay.

  **

  Shalane rolled to her back and treaded water, sputtering when a wave broke over her head. Clutching her skirt to keep it from tangling around her legs, she said a spell to right the speedboat and bring it to her. At least the rain had stopped for the moment.

  Clamoring up the ladder, Shalane squeezed the brine from the hem of her skirt and spoke another spell to stall the motor and restore the vessel to its previous condition. When a simple locator spell failed to reveal Emily’s position, a sick feeling plundered Shalane’s gut.

  The islander swam toward the boat, bobbing in the rough surf. He climbed the ladder and shook his dreads, sending water everywhere. Shalane readied to try another spell

  “Wha’ hoppen mon?”

  “I have no idea. Don’t you know? Didn’t you see what hit us?” The dreads shook vigorously.

  “No‘ting, mum.” The whites of his eyes grew larger as he peered suspiciously at the vast ocean, then restarted the engine. Shalane held up a hand.

  “Wait! Give me a minute.”

  The motor idled, but she could tell the islander was not happy with the command.

  Ignoring him, Shalane found her center, called on Archangel Michael, and reached out energetically in a circle for miles. There was no trace of Emily Hester. She searched deep down into the sea, yielding the same results. No Emily.

  Shaking with rage, Shalane threw back her head and screamed into the night, while the driver cowered beside the purring motor. She reached up to the sky, stirred the clouds into a frenzy, and sent them shrieking in the direction of Zephyr Cay.

  Feeling only slightly better, Shalane collected her wits and motioned the driver to get them to dry land.

  Ready or Not

  Flying back to the Atlantean Center was exhilarating, though a-Ur’s claws sliced into Emily, and her head screamed bloody murder. Despite all that, she was grateful to be free from Shalane, who was crazier than ever.

  The sickle moon broke through a cloud, sending sparkles across the sea. Emily lifted her gaze. The Center was just ahead. Thunder rumbled behind them as a-Ur propelled them to the beach. He gently released Emily and landed beside her.

  “Are you okay, Awen?” The air dragon blinked his silver eyes and the tape over Emily’s mouth disappeared.

  “Yes. No. I guess so. But, my head is screaming and my body aches. Thank you for coming, and for rescuing me.” She tried to stand, then gave up and held out her hands. “Plus, I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

  “Silly Awen,” a-Ur eyed her with disdain. “Why didn’t you conjure a protective spell?”

  “I couldn’t use my hands.”

  a-Ur stared in disbelief. “You what?”

  “I couldn’t use my hands or speak.” Emily squirmed when a-Ur laughed.

  “You don’t need your hands for a spell, deary. Do you talk with your hands? No. You talk with your mouth. And if you can’t speak out loud, what do you do? You say the spell in your head.”

  Emily blinked as a-Ur’s revelation sunk in. “You’re saying all I have to do is speak the spell? I don’t need to do all that other stuff?”

  “You are the Awen, deary. No one on Earth is more powerful than you when you are you. Remember that. And use it to push your limits. You are capable of doing things most druids cannot. Go ahead. Get rid of your bonds.”

  Emily quieted her mind, then silently spoke the spell to free her limbs. The bindings disappeared. Astounded, she peered up at the air dragon.

  “Why has no one ever told me that? And why hasn’t it worked before? I usually have to try spells two or three times. And even then, they only work if I connect with the elements. Otherwise, nothing happens.”

  “Maybe you’re getting better. Or maybe you just needed to know how powerful you are. Practice makes perfect. Isn’t that the saying?”

  Emily nodded and hummed Taliesin’s ballad. Thunder rumbled as the storm moved closer.

  “What’s that you’re singing?”

  “Just a tune that’s been in my head all—”

  A roar sounded, loud and near. Talav ran toward her with Khenko on her tail.

  “You found her. The Awen is safe.” Talav bowed her head in salutation, then scrutinized a-Ur. “Well done, brother, well done.”

  Khenko helped Emily to her feet and slung a supporting arm around her. A fine rain began to fall. Khenko gasped.

  “What the heck? You’re bleeding, Emily.”

  Emily arched her back and moaned. The cuts were deep. Blood dripped down her arms and legs. But first things first.

  “I’m sorry, Khenko. Shalane must have been at the party. When I left the table and went to the bathroom, I got sick from the punch and the rich food. Then I had an anxiety attack. The vertigo was so bad, I laid down on the beach and must have passed out. Shalane was searching for me and stumbled over my head. Literally.” She fingered the nasty scrape on her temple.

  “Does Shalane have long black hair?”

  Emily nodded. “Not usually, but she did tonight. You saw her?” Khenko let go of a string of expletives before he answered.

  “Yes, but I had no idea it was Shalane. Come to the house and let me tend to those cuts.” He turned her in that direction.

  Ooschu emerged from the surf and waded to shore growling. “The witch escaped and sent a storm this way. We must get Awen out of here. If she knows her whereabouts, others will too.”

  Terror ripped through Emily. Her temperature was dangerously low, her head was splitting in two, and she was one big, gigantic ache. Hunkering close to Khenko, she pressed her hands into her temples and rounded on the dragons.

  “I am not going anywhere until one of you gets rid of this blasted headache. And for the love of God,
would you magick away these lacerations? a-Ur, I am grateful to you and Ooschu for rescuing me, but your claws are deadly.”

  She glared at the air dragon, not giving a rat’s ass that he towered over her menacingly. When none of them obliged, Emily clenched her fists and stomped her feet—which made the pain worse and brought tears to her eyes.

  Khenko moved to scoop her into his arms, but a-Ur forbade it.

  “If Emily wants to be the Awen, she must stop being pitiful and learn these things.” The air dragon lowered his horned snout in front of her face. “Heal your wounds, Awen.”

  A brilliant stalk of lightning split the heavens over their heads. Thunder exploded and rolled away across the waves. Emily fell to her knees and hid her face in the sand. The engorged clouds let go and pummeled her with rain. The reek of ozone filled her senses, and nausea threatened.

  Focusing on the earth supporting her frame, the rain against her skin, the air heaving in and out of her chest, and the fiery pain consuming her being, Emily drew a rasping breath and summoned the spell. It came to her from the depths of memory, or maybe from that of her ancestor.

  Saying the words inside her head, Emily imagined a cloud of white light enveloping her body. It grew stronger and brighter until she went limp in the sand. Khenko was beside her in a heartbeat, lifting her head.

  “Emily, you did it. Look! Your arms and legs are healed. The blood is even gone. It worked. You did it!”

  She rolled onto her back and marveled at the skin covering her arms. No welts. No bruises. No lacerations. And no longer did her brain pound mercilessly against her skull. She checked her back and legs. They, too, were whole. Khenko was right.

  “Well, I’ll be blessed.” Emily leapt from the sand, raised her arms to the heavens, and twirled in the rain squealing.

  With a triumphant roar, Draig Ooschu proclaimed, “The Awen is ready.”

  “Aye, the Awen is ready,” Talav and a-Ur chorused.

  Fate Steps In

  Nergal paced the living quarters, though his gait was little more than a hobble. The petite doctora with violet eyes was on the table in the next room fighting for her life. According to her doctor friend, the bullet had missed her vital organs. But she’d lost a lot of blood during the long flight to Araf.

  The doctor’s familiar had provided the use of this room before disappearing to assist her partner. They had both eyed Nergal and his companions fearfully and would have turned them away. But Magdalena was like family, they said, and they had made an exception.

  Nergal wobbled and limped the other way. Pain and fatigue slowed his steps, but he would not rest until the doctora was safe.

  The headlines scrolling across the ancient screen confirmed what they had learned on the streets of Araf. Shibboleth had issued a warrant for Nergal’s arrest for the murder of Maw the Punisher. Ishkur, Inanna, and Magdalena were similarly charged, with a fifty-thousand-credit reward on the head of each. According to the feed, the Draconian army was searching for them in and around Agartha and Xibalba IX.

  “Great,” Inanna snorted. “Two more places I won’t be able to frequent. At least they didn’t mention Araf.”

  Ishkur snored lightly in a nearby chair. Nergal sank into the one beside him, then hauled himself back up to pace.

  **

  “Magda is stable, but her condition is serious,” the doctor announced. “A projectile had lodged near her spine, but I was able to get it out. I’d like to keep her here under observation for the new few days.” His familiar bustled in.

  “Come. Eat. I’ve laid a simple meal in the back hall.” She peered intently at Nergal and Inanna’s injuries. “Those wounds need tending.” She glanced at her partner, who nodded and touched Nergal’s arm.

  “Come with me.”

  In a room that seemed out of place in a residence, the doctor gestured to a stone ledge. Nergal climbed onto the uncomfortable table and laid on his back as instructed. The doctor positioned a bright lamp to inspect his wounds, then moved to his face.

  “General Nergal, you are lucky to be alive.” He probed the gash that had closed and reopened several times over the last weeks. Nergal roared in pain and lashed out at the doctor.

  Nimble for one so old, the doctor leapt back, then peered at Nergal through magnifying goggles. “Must I secure your limbs to the table, Sir? Or will you lay still and refrain from maiming me while I treat your injuries?”

  “Proceed,” Nergal grunted. “I am a Draco warrior. I can handle pain.”

  “Well, I cannot. Shall I engage the restraints?”

  “Nay. I will cooperate.”

  “In that case,” the doctor chose an instrument from a nearby shelf, “I will numb the wounds before I proceed. That will make this easier for us both.” He paused and peered at Nergal intently. “Not that I care about your comfort. Your warriors laid waste to this village centuries ago. You killed my life partner and much of my family.”

  Nergal growled. It wasn’t in him to feel remorse. “Then do it for Magdalena, and I’ll let you live.”

  The doctor’s laugh taunted Nergal. “You dare threaten me? Your life is in my hands, Sir. Be careful, or you’ll find yourself dead, rather than healed. Now, may I proceed?”

  Disgusted by his own pathetic weakness, Nergal nodded and turned his head away. He felt the sting of the needle, then the pain eased. Inside of a minute, he was out cold.

  **

  Nergal couldn’t believe his pain was nearly gone. His wounds were healing at a remarkable pace, aided by the treatment the doctor had administered. He could even stand tall, though he listed slightly to the right. The slash across his face added a terrifying feature that would prove useful in battle, but it wouldn’t win him any points with the ladies.

  Aware of the doctora next to him, Nergal felt an unfamiliar warmth creep into his cheeks. Without Magdalena’s help, he would’ve died in Agartha. The violet-eyed medic had not left his side since they’d fled the city—until Maw shot her. Now it was Nergal’s turn to watch over the doctora.

  Part of him hated what he’d become. It was not in his nature to need, or give, help. But long had he hovered at death’s door, and without Nergal’s permission, something had changed, even softened, inside him. His will to exact revenge on Shibboleth remained, outweighing his contempt. If help was what he needed, then help he would accept.

  He glanced at Magdalena. She was pale and feeble but recovering, thanks to her doctor friend. The door opened, and the white-coated Reptilian bustled in. Nergal eyed the aging Draco with distrust. His ministrations had given Nergal new life and saved Magdalena, but he’d also threatened to kill Nergal.

  After examining them, the doctor declared their progress satisfactory. He gave each another healing injection and declared the last would be administered the next day. After that, they would be on their own.

  There was a commotion in the back, and the doctor hurried from the exam room. Nergal shepherded Magda to the hideout in the basement, then hurried upstairs to find the uproar had been caused by the return of Inanna and Ishkur. They sat wide-eyed and breathing hard.

  “Nergal, we must flee,” Ishkur gasped. “We were scouting the area, and Shibboleth’s goons saw us.”

  “You’re bleeding!” Inanna cried. “They got you.” She applied compression to Ishkur’s wound. Her own were barely visible after receiving the doctor’s miraculous treatment, but Ishkur’s yellow blood spotted the shiny floor.

  “I’ll be fine, we must go. Now!” Ishkur barked.

  “That’s a deep tear. At least let me wrap it so you don’t bleed out. Come,” the doctor ordered, pulling Ishkur toward the exam room.

  The Draco grabbed Nergal’s arm. “Get our packs and take the females. Head east and north. Shibboleth’s men lie in the opposite direction. Hurry, they will soon be here.”

  When Nergal hesitated, Ishkur pushed him toward the door. “Go. I’ll catch up with you.”

  **

  Nergal drew the hood closer and shrank into the midday
shadows. Shibboleth’s spies were everywhere, and Ishkur had yet to find them. Seeing a wanted poster hawking the foursome’s guilt, he ripped it down, tore it to shreds, and scattered the pieces underfoot. It felt good to be himself again.

  “We should wait for Ishkur,” Inanna pled, not for the first time.

  “No. We keep going. He will find us.”

  Magdalena took his claw in hers. “Please, Nergal. I need to rest.”

  He noted her pale cheeks and looked around for a hiding place.

  “Over there,” Inanna pointed to a collapsed structure.

  They scurried from the shadows and wiggled through an opening at the base. Finding a large pocket in which to hide and see the street, they settled down to rest and wait for Ishkur.

  Presently, there was a racket nearby. Nergal rose to attention but remained in the shadows. Draco warriors were knocking on doors and inspecting the area.

  Hissing quietly, he roused Inanna and Magda, both of whom had fallen asleep, something they all sorely needed. But they couldn’t leave the ruins without attracting attention.

  Huddling close, they stayed low and waited for Ishkur. Or worse, to be captured.

  Speak the Word

  Brian and Ethnui walked for hours in silence. Her handheld had resynced at the edge of Mu, before ducking into the tunnels. Neither spoke of their experience in Mu, or of their harried flight to escape the villagers.

  Brian switched his heavy pack to the other shoulder. “How much further?”

  Ethnui consulted her wrist unit. “Another few minutes, I think.”

  A half hour later, Ethnui halted. “We should be there by now.” She pointed to a notch dug into the granite. “I recognize this mark. We passed it earlier. I think we must’ve missed a side-tunnel.” She blew out an exasperated breath.

  “Great. We’re lost.” Brian nibbled at a nail.

  “Shhh!” Hamilton shushed, startling them both.

  In the quiet, they heard it. A soft slithering in the tunnel behind them.

  “Alexis?” Ham called.

  The slithering continued, growing louder. Taking Ethnui’s hand, Brian pulled her with him to investigate. The sound stopped, and they stood quietly for a long minute before it started again.