by O J Barré
Randall opened his mouth, but Khenko leaned close to place a finger on his lips.
“No questions. I can’t talk. See you later?”
The exotic eyes widened. “Sure. I’ll swing by after close. Don’t do anything crazy. Or stupid. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Nodding, Khenko left and climbed in the jeep. Seeing that the real estate office had opened, he slammed on the brakes and slid sideways in the mud. The road was even sloppier after last night’s rain. Waving apology to a couple of locals carrying baskets of wares, Khenko pulled to the side and parked. He would take care of business, then run back to the Vortex. Just in case.
But as it turned out, he didn’t get a chance. After making arrangements with the realtor, Khenko went back to the Center and fell asleep on the hammock in the shade of the palms.
While he slept, he was visited by three dragons—one silver, one sea-green, and the other a multicolored rainbow. Each strongly insisted Khenko Blitherstone drop everything and go home to his family.
Apparently, he was sorely needed.
**
The flight to Princeton, New Jersey, via Atlanta, Georgia, was crammed full. Khenko tucked his long legs beneath the seat in front of him and opened the window shade. He watched the light play on the Caribbean as the plane taxied and took off, then circled low over Zephyr Cay.
Spotting his beloved Atlantean Center, Khenko’s heart swelled and flooded over into his eyes. Dashing away the tears, Khenko craned his head until the Center was gone. But in his mind’s eye, he was on the beach with a red-headed woman and her dragon friends.
Khenko gasped and sat up straight. Emily. Her name was Emily.
So who was Awen?
Dragons of Beli
The dragons exited the wormhole near Dinas Affaraon. Ooschu landed in the frigid waters of the Northern Atlantic, which was angry this day, heaving and churning, with a powerful undertow. She rode the waves gleefully, happy to be back.
From the shore, Talav bellowed, offering a benediction to their old homeland. a-Ur soared above them, and dipped on one wing, coming to rest near Talav. Ooschu dove beneath the rowdy surface and swam ashore, noting with surprise the sparsity of sea life. She picked her way over the rocky beach to where the others gathered.
a-Ur roared, “Where is the Awen?”
The three dragons eyed one another, then turned toward the jagged peaks of Yr Wyddfa.
“The castle maybe?” Talav said.
Ooschu eyed a-Ur. “You could fly up and check,” she suggested. “Talav and I will have a look down here.”
**
a-Ur circled the sharp ridges of Crib Goch and Y Lliwedd, and climbed the lofty peaks of Yr Wyddfa. He came to rest beside what was once a moat. Castle ruins littered the landscape, a pile of crumbling stones with few remaining walls. Lifting off, he hugged the skeleton of a parapet, sweeping the castle remains with his keen gaze. The Awen was not here.
Anxiety growing, he took flight again, soaring low above the mountains. Not only was the Awen not in sight, but he detected no trace of her energy signature. Returning to the rocky beach, he found Talav and Ooschu as agitated as he. None could fathom what had happened to the Awen.
“Maybe she forgot our instructions, and thought of some other place while in the wormhole.” Talav suggested. “That girl is as wayward as they have come. And while I often enjoy her tantrums, this is no time to run astray. I say we check the Otherworld, in case she got confused in the maze.”
a-Ur shook his horny head. Something had occurred to him, and he didn’t like it. “It’s Tienu,” he muttered. “That conniving drake has intercepted the Awen.”
Ooschu squealed, a sound most unbecoming to a dragon. “You’re right, a-Ur. That’s exactly what happened.” She pounded the rocky strand. “I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Talav looked sheepish. “Did I mention to either of you that I saw Tienu?”
a-Ur’s angry roar echoed from the cliffs.
“Okay, I didn’t exactly see Tienu. But, I did talk to him. It was he who told me what to do to get the Awen’s attention. Where to shake the earth.” Guilt gave way to horror as awareness dawned in Talav’s ochre eyes.
“That devil played me, didn’t he? He wanted me to create that earthquake and eruption so he could escape. Do you think he’s stolen the Awen?”
“More than likely. So, what now?” Ooschu wondered.
a-Ur heaved a heavy sigh. “We find the Awen. I will backtrack through the wormhole. It may have kicked her out somewhere, and she would have no idea how to proceed. It’s not your fault, Talav. It’s mine. I should have foreseen this. That damn wormhole is unreliable. It kicked me out twice on the way to the Bahamas.”
He prepared to take off. “You two stay here. Maybe Ooschu can scan the Otherworld and Underworld. Talav, could you check the rest of the island? Look for Tienu, too. Find him and we’ll find our Awen.”
a-Ur’s eyes roved the rocky beach.Guillemots, cormorants, and kittiwakes combed the rocks, looking for a meal. He hated to leave Beli so soon. But without the Awen, their cause was lost.
“Wait!” Talav called as a-Ur lifted off. “I sense the old witch’s presence. Maybe she has news of the Awen.”
**
The Cailleach tottered to the window. She parted the heavy curtains to peer up into a cornflower-blue sky. The screech had summoned her. That, and a roar that brought a thrill to her old heart.
The dragons of Beli had returned.
She watched the air dragon soar over the crumbled remains of the castle that had once belonged to her consort, Beli-Mawr.
Donning her wrap, she pulled the hood over thinning gray hair, then hobbled outside to tap her alder cane on the rocky ground. Ice fanned out before her. She waved her cane over her head, and a frigid wind swooped down from Yr Wyddfa.
The Cailleach clutched her robe tighter and watched the dragon pick through the castle’s icy remains. For what did the drake search?
Putting two fingers to her lips, the Cailleach whistled. The wind shrieked, a keening cry of hope delayed. The temperature plunged and fine snowflakes whipped along the airways.
The dragon’s head snapped toward the Cailleach. No surprise registered on its horned visage. Cautious, as dragons are wont to be, the drake approached.
“Hail, Cailleach, keeper of winter.”
“Hail Draig-athar,” she welcomed the shimmery creature, who was both a bestower of dreams and the bringer of destruction. “You have returned.”
“Aye,” the dragon roared.
Eyes born of the stars themselves scrutinized the Cailleach, then the dragon bowed before her. “And you have remained, Cailleach. Your presence brings pause to an old dragon’s heart. The time is nigh.”
a-Ur flapped his translucent wings, and a ray of sun penetrated the clouds to sparkle and play with the swirling snowflakes. Thunder boomed and rolled across the land.
“Show off.” The Cailleach cackled, and relaxed her wary stance.
The air drake bowed, and the snow gathered about him. It whirled into a long, narrow spiral that stretched up into the clouds. Then the funnel closed upon itself, and the winds abated. The snow ceased.
Nodding in approval, the Cailleach planted her cane firmly. At its tip, ice formed and emanated out in concentric circles to cover the ruins. It ran up the tors, spreading quickly and freezing any vegetation the early spring had coaxed from the earth.
A bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of the Cailleach. Startled, she blinked and the ice receded.
Draig-athar’s laughter, gruff and melodious, echoed off the jagged peaks. The Cailleach leaned heavily on her cane, glad for the support for her old bones.
“Truce, dragon. We’ve both made our points. What is it you seek, a-Ur?”
For the third time, the dragon bowed before the Cailleach. “I seek the Awen, old one. The time is nigh. The darkness lurks beneath our feet. Without the Awen, all is lost.”
Fury twisted in
the Cailleach at the mention of Awen. For a twinkling, she dwelt in memory, in a time when her cohorts had ruled the land. When humans were few, and mostly meek. Save the druids.
“Who is this Awen, and why should I care?” the Cailleach lied. “Short are the days before Brigit claims my rightful place and ushers in the warm summer season. Already she threatens, poking her head from the earth in crocus spikes. But I am resolved to stay until Beltaine, as is my right. Begone with you, and this interloping Awen.”
She struck the earth with her cane, and ice crystals flew into the air dragon’s face.
a-Ur roared and prepared for battle.
Falaise
The wind whistled through the dragon’s wings as it sped up behind Emily. She wheeled to face it, and fire streamed from its great maw. Cringing, Emily tucked and gathered around her center, but the flames bypassed her to sear a new passageway. This one was gray, tinged an ominous blood-red. Unable to change directions or stay her course, Emily flew into it.
The dragon soared ahead of her, burning a new channel through the densely-forming clouds. Lightning flashed, and the world tilted sideways, spilling Emily into a dark place filled with dust and decay. All motion ceased.
She was no longer in the wormhole.
Feeling around with her hands in the dark, Emily hoped she wasn’t in another freaking cave. At least she wasn’t frightened, for the moment. The space reminded her of Talav’s underground lair. Had she been hijacked by Tienu? The fallen Keeper? Emily shivered.
The wall was clay, damp and slimy beneath her fingers. Had something happened to her in the vortex? Was she knocking on death’s door, again? Or was she actually dead this time?
A gravelly chuckle echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the ceiling and reverberating all around Emily. Low, light, amused laughter. Dragon laughter.
“Tienu, is that you? Are we in Beli?”
The laughter grew louder, deeper, more mirthful.
As Emily’s eyes adjusted, she could just make out an enormous form, larger than any of the other dragons. Even a-Ur.
“Hello?” No answer.
Feeling around the perimeter, she remembered she had matches and a lighter in her backpack. Shrugging the straps from her shoulders, Emily opened the side pocket and fumbled for the disposable lighter.
She held it high but couldn’t make out the dragon’s details. At least the chamber was larger than the one beneath Zoo Atlanta. A layer of fine dust covered the floor, and when Emily stood, it tickled her nostrils. She sneezed, and the flame went out.
Digging in the compartment for a stubby emergency candle, she lit that, and held it aloft, cupping her hand around the flame when it flickered and almost died. She inched cautiously toward the silent dragon, wondering why she felt no fear. She was underground, in the dark, and worse, a hostile dragon was here.
Bran the Raven was right. Emily had come a long way.
Of course, she wore the ring and the amulet. Maybe that was why. She touched Aóme to the ruby resting lightly against her chest. In the shadows, a motion caught Emily’s attention. Then the dragon shambled into the light, its blood-red eyes fixed on her.
Emily shuddered. Its face was horned, and a line of sharp spikes ran from the center of its crimson forehead, down the length of its spine, to the tip of its deadly-looking tail. She crouched and waited for the dragon to strike.
“Fear not, young Awen.” The booming voice rolled around the chamber and echoed deep into the earth, as if through a cavern system. “Sleep. You are weary and will need your strength for what is to come.”
The dragon lifted its great head. Its nostrils flared, testing the air, and its thick, mahogany tongue flicked across leathery lips, revealing sharp fangs.
Emily shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Then the dragon bowed.
“I fear we have not been properly introduced. I, Master Awen, am Draig Tienu, ever at your service. We are in your cave beneath Chateau Falaise.”
Seeing Stars
Wrestling with the shame of his failure, Azi trudged through the tunnel. Shibboleth had not executed him this time, but if he failed again, Azi wouldn't be so lucky.
As a punishment to himself, he had come alone to search for the access point. No Chupacabra sightings had marred his passage, and he was nearing the shaft of the defunct volcano. He'd brought a stun gun and attached a video camera to his vest. Should there be any hocus pocus, he would have the playback.
Evidence of the chimney’s incendiary origins appeared in the beam of Azi’s headlamp. He approached with caution, claws clicking over magma flows that had hardened in uneven ripples and waves. Reaching the endpoint of his previous expedition, Azi paused before taking another wary step.
The base of the vent gaped before him, surrounded by boulders and debris. Dropping his pack at his feet, Azi clattered over the flow to duck inside the opening. As he’d anticipated, the chimney was blocked. He retrieved a concussive device and placed it center mass, then retreated into the tunnel to detonate. He covered his ears and head.
Rocks ricocheted off the walls of the passage and dust filled his nose and the tunnel. He sneezed several times in quick succession. When it had cleared sufficiently to breathe again, Azi looped the pack over his neck and shoulder and entered the narrow passage to begin the climb.
For the next thirty minutes, he scaled the stack easily until he reached another blockage. Azi planted a concussive and climbed down the vent a short way to hide beneath a small outcrop. Flattening his body as best he could beneath the ledge, he shielded his face and exploded the charge.
An avalanche of rock and debris cascaded down the chamber. Azi clung to the wall, grateful when the outcrop held and deflected the largest boulders. When the barrage was over, he lifted his head to peer above him, and barely avoided a large stone that tumbled lazily behind the rest. He waited another minute until the dust cleared, and cautiously peered upward.
And almost plunged to his death at the sight.
There, above him, was a purple sky filled with dancing stars. Losing his grip, Azi slid a half meter before gaining a handhold, then a foothold. Heart galloping, he gazed skyward. The celestial lights blinked, steady and real.
With a rush of excitement, Azi hauled himself up, hand over hand, the last several meters. He clamored over the edge and kneeled, ignoring the shards that tore at his scales. Inky sky surrounded him, and it was filled with glorious, sparkling stars.
A coyote howled, answered by another, then the rest of the pack added their voices until the ululation sent chills down Azi’s spine.
He had breached the worlds.
The howls coalesced into hungry yips, then quieted. Azi listened closely, and could just make out the sound of the beasts fighting over their kill. The scent of blood mixed with the spice of fir.
Azi shivered. The chill air was crisp against his face, and cooled his core rapidly. Standing slowly, he turned in all directions, searching for signs of danger.
When he was sure there was no immediate threat, he retrieved his communicator. The signal was weak but active. Calling up the message he had prepared earlier, Azi sent it to the base commander and copied his assistant.
An hour later, four Draco warriors poured from the old volcano in the middle of California’s Panamint Mountains.
**
On the other side of the world in Varanasi, India, Ramananda sat very still. So still, the grasshoppers and dragonflies perched upon him like he was a statue or part of the landscape. He was very old and wished only to spend his last days in this special place, the Well of Sheshna, where he could gaze for hours into the waters.
On a good day, the water spoke to him. Right now, what it said astounded Ramananda.
His eyes flew open. A ripple disturbed the usually-placid surface. Amid a flurry of gossamer wings, the dragonflies took flight. The water churned and parted. The steps to the legendary Patala appeared.
Ramananda knew without seeing, that there were forty steps. They de
scended into a stone grotto that terminated at a door covered in bas-relief cobras. In the past, the pool was drained for special celebrations. But the door hadn’t been opened in a century, or more.
A green head with crafty red eyes appeared on the steps, and Ramananda suppressed a surprised breath. The head was followed by a plated chest, lean muscular arms, and a long torso and legs. Snake-like scales covered the man-sized creature that wore nothing but a wide belt from which weapons dangled. Its feet and hands ended in sharp claws that could tear Ramananda to shreds.
What was this creature? A lizard, or a man? It looked a combination of both.
He shivered as another emerged, then another, and another, until four of the beings crouched beside the statue. Water dripped from the sleek, scaled bodies to the dry stones, where it sizzled and released its vapor to the air.
With fearful awe, Ramananda whispered a prayer of his ancestors designed to make himself undetectable. Were these the Naga? The snake men of yore?
They filed past Ramananda silently, walking upright. The shortest was easily seven feet tall, with a mouthful of sharp, pointed teeth.
When they had passed from Ramananda’s failing sight, he released a pent-up breath and rose from lotus position to creep toward home.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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UPCOMING BOOKS BY O. J. BARRÉ
The Awen Series:
Book Three, Awen Tide, arrives 2021
The Sammy Starr Series:
Book One, Churches, Chickens and Chi-Chi’s, 2022
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
O. J. Barré hails from the lushly forested, red-clay hills near Atlanta, Georgia where much of this story takes place. From birth, O. J. was a force of nature. Barefoot and freckled, headstrong and gifted; she was, and is, sensitive to a fault. Books became her refuge as a young child, allowing O. J. to escape the confines of her turbulent alcoholic home for adventures to untold places and times. Her daddy’s mother was a Willoughby, making O. J. a direct descendant of William the Conqueror. Her Awen series is a love letter to that distant past.