CHAPTER NINETEEN
525 A.D.
I stood alone in the castle’s stables. I checked my pack one final time to be sure I had everything necessary for my crazy plan. The smell of hay and fresh oats tickled my nose. Goliath was saddled and ready to fly. He stood silently, his gaze focused on the sky beyond the stable doors. I felt very alone.
A final inspection of all the straps connecting my gryphon’s saddle to his body revealed nothing to cause me any worry. I must admit that I was a little paranoid after the last in-flight “malfunction.” All the straps were tightly and properly buckled.
With a pat to his neck, I jumped up between Goliath’s broad shoulders and settled in. My pack was across my back, the Signpost secured to the side of my saddle. The leather pouch hung from the saddle horn. I was as ready as I was going to be.
I eased Goliath forward, out of the stable and into the stable yard. The sun began to sink into the western horizon. It was time to go. With a flick of the reigns, Goliath trotted across the yard and leapt into the sky. We headed west into the setting sun where all shadows seemed to converge into a kind of dark light. I kept a close watch out for any of Fowler’s winged creatures, wary of flying into a trap.
Goliath and I flew for about twenty minutes when the ruins atop Widow’s Peak came into view. Even from our considerable height, I could see Cyrus Fowler standing on the stones of a toppled wall waiting for our arrival. The wind whipped his black cloak out behind him like a cape, giving him the appearance of some sort of evil superman. His hood was thrown back from his head. His hair joined his cloak, dancing in the air.
Fowler’s birds perched all along the tops of the ruins, black sentinels watching my arrival. Buzzards, vultures, ravens and crows occupied every available surface of the dilapidated fortifications. There had to be hundreds of them, all awaiting their master’s commands.
Behind Fowler and his avian army, the green scaled form of Scar was visible, lying up against the toppled fortress wall. As if she sensed my arrival, Scar raised her massive head and turned her cold eyes upon me. Tendrils of smoke drifted from her nostrils. Her twin horns looked sharp and unforgiving. A lump of fear developed in my throat. I swallowed it and could feel it settle in the pit of my stomach. A noisy silence descended across the high mountain top. Even the wind had lost its voice.
Goliath and I circled, lazily descending to the earth. We landed about thirty yards from the man in black. He, Scar and his birds watched us with obvious interest but neither Fowler nor his beasts moved. I dismounted from my gryphon taking the Signpost and the satchel Merv and I had prepared.
As my feet hit the ground, I did a quick visual reconnaissance of the Widow’s Peak. The ruins took up a large portion of the mountain top, beginning at one edge and running outward for several hundred yards. The fortification must have been impressive at one time, its towers soaring high into the clouds above. Now it was merely piles of stone and rubble, overrun by the minions of time.
Beyond the fallen towers and shattered stones, where Goliath and I had landed, an open grassy field stretched away to the base of another cliff, which rose up into the clouds. A cave split the cliff at its center; an open mouth waiting to be fed.
Scar’s lair.
There was no sign of Harold or Pat.
“I’m glad to see you came alone, boy,” Fowler shouted over the wind, cutting short my visual inspection. “Do you have what I requested?”
“Where’s Pat?” I demanded in reply. “Before I turn over anything to you, I need to know that she’s safe and unharmed.”
Fowler grinned and pointed toward the cave to my left. “She’s safe, boy, for now. Her continued safety, however, depends entirely on you. Now stop playing games and give me what I want! Now!”
“No games, Fowler. But I’m not giving you anything until I see Pat.”
“Let me put this another way,” Fowler’s voice took on a more menacing tone. “Either give me the Stones, the staff and your research, or I will have Scar eat the Princess while you watch. Then she will eat you and I will come take what I want.”
A flick of Fowler’s head was all Scar needed to lumber to her feet. She flexed her great wings and let out an ear-splitting roar. Many of Fowler’s birds took to the air, startled by the dragon’s shriek. They quickly returned, however, resettling along the broken down walls. The lump in my stomach doubled in size. Goliath tensed for battle at my side. His muscles rippled beneath his skin.
“Easy, boy,” I whispered. “Not yet.”
The large gryphon reluctantly backed down.
“You’re being unreasonable, Fowler. I’m only asking for a show of good faith. As long as Pat is unharmed, I will gladly give you the Stones and everything else. You can travel from this place and never see me again.”
Fowler seemed to consider my offer. “Alright, boy,” he said with his evil grin. “A show of good faith. Harold! Bring her out!” He pointed again at the dragon’s cave.
I followed his finger to the gaping hole. Harold stepped from the darkness of the opening pulling Pat along with him. Pat was still bound and gagged and was forced to hop in order to keep pace with her abductor. She stumbled and fell to the ground. I took a step toward my friend but was quickly stopped by Fowler’s booming voice.
“There’s your proof, boy. Now bring me the items. No more stalling!”
Little choice remained. I gathered the things and started toward the man in black. Walking as slowly as I could without calling too much attention to myself, I made my way towards Fowler. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his demeanor changing from irritated to expectant. His prizes were clutched in my hands, almost within his evil grasp.
When I reached the halfway point between where I had landed and Fowler’s position, I stopped, knelt and set everything down on the ground before me. I took two steps back and stood my ground.
“What are you doing?” Fowler demanded. His demeanor changed again, this time from expectant to worried. “Bring me the Stones or I will unleash Scar, boy!”
I stared across the field at Fowler, folding my arms across my chest. Taking a deep, calming breath, I readied myself for what was to come.
“Do you want me to give the Princess to my pet?” Fowler was getting angry. Angry was good. Angry people made mistakes and didn’t think clearly. Brady had taught me that.
“Let Pat go, Fowler. The items you requested are here. Send her to my gryphon. I’ll remain here with the Stones until she is safely away and then you will have everything you deserve.”
“You aren’t running this show, boy,” Fowler screamed. “Pick up the satchel and the staff and bring them to me now. This is your last chance!”
Fowler’s reaction told me all I needed to know. He had no intention of allowing either myself or Pat to leave this mountain top alive. I made one final effort to avoid confrontation.
“Release the Princess and we can end this without further conflict. Please, Fowler,” I begged, “Take what you demanded and leave.”
“Pick up the staff and the satchel and bring them to me. That is your only option, boy. You have ten seconds,” Fowler replied, “beginning now.”
I dropped my head in resignation. “Ideas?” I quietly asked myself. “Fourth of July,” I just as quietly responded. The time had come to put my crazy plan into action. Fowler knew he had the upper hand. I squatted down and began to pick up the items lying at my feet. As I shouldered Merv’s leather bag, I lit the long fuse on the bottle rocket I had stuck in the ground when I initially placed Fowler’s demanded treasures in the grass. I made sure to keep my disposable Stuckey’s lighter concealed in my hand.
Merv and I had made an extra-long fuse for this bottle rocket in his lab by mixing up some crude gunpowder and wrapping it tightly in some thin cloth strips. I knew the recipe for ‘flash powder’ my old friend had found would come in handy. We did some tests to adjust the length of the fuse, giving me approximately sixty seconds to put my plan into action. The clock was running. So was I.
Without warning, I broke into a full sprint headed straight for the man in black. I covered the fifteen yards on rubbery legs, still not fully recovered from my encounter with Fowler’s birds. My gamble caught Fowler totally unaware. By the time he realized I was attacking, I was already upon him. Even Scar and the army of birds seemed momentarily confused by my sudden move.
With only a few feet left between us, I planted the Signpost in the ground and used it to launch myself feet first at the bird man. Think modified pole vault meets the karate kid. As my feet slammed into Fowler’s chest, I heard the whoosh of the bottle rocket firing skyward. Things were about to get pretty ugly.
A controlled chaos descended upon the top of Widow’s Peak. Fowler screamed for Scar and his birds to attack. Scar beat her great wings in an attempt to get airborne so she could attack. Scores of black birds took to the air, blotting out the setting sun. Goliath shrieked and bore down on our position. Harold struggled to get Pat back on her feet and back into the cave. Pat struggled to roll away from Harold and to prevent him from pulling her back to her feet and back into the cave. I jumped on top of Fowler, locked in mortal combat with pure evil. The odds were definitely against us - two grown men, a dragon, and too many birds to count versus a boy, a tied up girl, and a gryphon. Not the ideal situation.
The rocket exploded high overhead sending a shower of red sparks in every direction. The light show quickly faded, leaving only wisps of smoke as evidence of its existence.
Fowler and I crashed to the ground. The Signpost and the Stones flew from my hands when we collided. My staff fell just out of my reach. The satchel Fowler so dearly coveted skittered across the fallen castle wall and came to rest a few yards away.
As my enemy and I squared off, numerous small black dots appeared above the clouds. They quickly increased in size, growing larger and larger as they plummeted toward earth. The dots became blurs. The blurs became blobs. The blobs became shapes. The shapes became Merv upon the back of another gryphon, leading another twenty gryphons into the battle. My backup responded to the signal flare I had just fired.
The creatures swooped into the clearing ready to join the fight, the odds still against our success but certainly a little better.
“Get Pat!” I yelled as Fowler and I rolled back and forth, each trying to gain the upper hand.
Merv hesitated, focused on the dragon that had now taken to the air.
“Get Pat!” I yelled again. “Stick to the plan!”
Merv shook off his hesitation. He and his gryphon raced across the clearing toward the Princess. Harold had finally managed to get Pat to her feet. He and his hostage disappeared into the darkness of the dragon’s lair. Merv landed as close to the opening in the face of the cliff as possible. Leaping off his gryphon, he yelled a command, drew his dagger, and sprinted into the tunnel. The ‘Pale Bucket’ was still pretty quick for an old guy.
Once Merv disappeared from view, his gryphon, Samson, powered back into the air and joined Goliath and the others. They attacked the numerous birds and the enormous dragon. Goliath and Merv’s beast focused on Scar. The two smaller creatures darted in and out of the dragon’s reach, using their razor sharp talons to attempt to wound their much larger foe. Their efforts did little to hurt the great beast, but they successfully kept her busy. Scar bellowed in rage as the two gryphons buzzed around her head like annoying mosquitoes. She breathed fire across the sky but could not connect with the faster, more agile creatures. She did, however, manage to roast many of Fowler’s birds, who were engaged with Merv’s other gryphons. Charred remains fell from the sky, smoking where they struck the ground.
While the battles raged overhead, I continued to struggle with the man in black. An adept fighter, he matched me blow for blow. I could feel my exhausted body starting to give out as our combat wore on.
“You are no match for me, boy,” Fowler taunted, barely missing me with a quick round house kick. “I’m bigger and stronger,” he continued. “I can already see you weakening.” He broke into a sadistic grin, connecting his right fist with my cheek. The taste of blood, metallic and bitter, flooded my mouth.
The blow stunned me, causing me to lose my balance. I tumbled to the ground. I rolled and tucked my shoulder beneath me and came up in a crouched position, ready to defend against my opponent’s next blow.
Fowler moved in to finish me off. I had to stall for time. I tried the old ‘reveal your plan to me because I’m defeated’ tactic. Bad guys love to gloat and tell you all about how they beat you and what they’re going to do once you’re out of the way. A little advice to all you would-be villains out there - don’t tell your plan to the hero even if you think he’s defeated and that there is no way he could stop you. That, my friends, is a rookie mistake.
Cyrus Fowler didn’t strike me as a rookie, but it was worth a shot. Besides, I still had a few tricks up my sleeves. Well actually, I had a few tricks in my pack, which was on my back and not as accessible as my sleeves so I needed a little distraction. Next time, I think I’ll try to carry as many tricks as I can in my sleeves, just for the ease of access.
“Why do you want the Stones, Fowler?” I blocked a spinning back fist and retreated.
“I do as I’m ordered to do, boy. The Stones hold great power. Power that shall be wielded by the Order of Disorder!” Two quick kicks narrowly missed my face.
“The Order of Disorder? What is the Order of Disorder?” I asked, ducking another series of blows.
“A powerful organization with agents scattered throughout time. We will reunite all the Keys to Forever and rule the world!” I jumped over a leg sweep and blocked a brutal combination of lefts and rights.
Was this really working? I had to keep him talking.
“You’re crazy, Fowler!” I exclaimed. “Secret organizations bent on global domination? Seriously?”
“You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, boy.” Fowler continued to advance, pushing me back along the crumbling wall. “The Order of Disorder will destroy the Keepers and rewrite history as they see fit!”
“The Keepers?” I questioned. “Who the heck are the Keepers?”
Fowler halted his advance, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath. I wondered at his tactical mistake until I realized that he had driven me to the end of the crumbling wall. Nothing but open space stretched out behind me. The rest of the wall had broken off long ago and fallen down the mountain. Fowler wore his madman grin again. He knew I was trapped.
“The history lesson is over, boy. I’m afraid you’re out of time.” Fowler began to advance. Merv’s satchel lay just behind me, between me and the end of the wall.
“I’d stop right there if I were you, Fowler. One more step and I’ll kick your prize over the edge,” I threatened.
Fowler’s advance faltered. His eyes darted to the bag at my feet. With his attention diverted, I reached back and removed my last smoke bomb from my pack. Quickly lighting the fuse, I dropped it on the wall between myself and my opponent. Dark purple smoke began to pour out of the small ball. Fowler knew he had made an error by allowing me to divert his attention to the pack. I reached down and retrieved the satchel, backing all the way to the edge of the wall.
The smoke had become thick, screening me from the man in black. Sensing he had been tricked, Fowler launched himself forward with outstretched arms. His hands closed on empty air. I stepped backwards off the ledge and dropped into the void below. As I fell, I looped the strap on the bag in my hands over the broken edge of the wall. With a sudden jerk, my fall was interrupted and I hung over the side of the mountain, suspended from the satchel Fowler so desperately desired.
Cyrus Fowler wasn’t so lucky. He stumbled blindly forward and lost his balance, unable to see through the purple cloud. He grabbed again and again trying to find me through the fog. Reaching the end of the ledge, he began wind milling his arms. He realized too late that I no longer stood between him and open air. He had run out of wall. Boots scraping across the rock,
Cyrus Fowler stumbled over the edge and plummeted down the side of the mountain. His scream quickly vanished as he raced past me. I couldn’t bring myself to watch his demise.
“Have a good trip,” I muttered to myself. I pulled myself back up onto the wall. Reaching the safety of solid ground, I retrieved the Signpost and ran toward the cave to help Merv and Pat. Halfway across the field, I saw Scar turn toward me, ready to attack. I had nowhere to go. No smoke bomb would save me now.
I dove to the side as Scar made her first pass, narrowly avoiding her talons and her powerful tail. I stood to make a dash for the cave. Goliath swooped in next to me, saving me from certain death once again.
I mounted the great creature as quickly as I could and we returned to the aerial battle. Fowler’s birds had been no match for the squadron of gryphons and Scar’s indiscriminate use of her flammable breath. Their battered carcasses littered the mountain top, singed and shredded from the battle above.
Scar made a wide turn and headed back our way. Merv and Pat would have to wait. I had my hands full, dealing with an irate, hungry dragon. Again, I’m assuming that, due to their size, all dragons are eternally hungry. Their recommended daily caloric intake has got to be astronomical. I mean, flying alone, has got to burn a lot of your average dragon’s food reserves. I know how hungry I get just from swimming a few laps around the pool.
Fire shot past my right shoulder as Scar fell in behind Goliath and me and attempted to blast us with her flammable breath. Goliath zigged and zagged, looped and flipped, taking evasive action ahead of our pursuer. Merv’s gryphon, Samson, continued to harass, heckle and irritate Scar, diving at and attacking the larger beast. The other members of Merv’s stable mopped up the few remaining birds.
Another burst of flame cut through the air from behind. It wasn’t close enough to cause us any damage, but the intense heat reminded me that we couldn’t elude the dragon forever. Eventually, she would either get off a lucky shot or would get close enough to seize us with her massive claws. Time to cook this over sized turkey.
I hunched over Goliath’s neck and shouted instructions to my partner. Goliath barrel rolled, evading another fiery blast, and began gaining altitude. I secured the Signpost to the saddle, knowing I would need both hands free for what I had planned. Scar adjusted course behind us, falling in to pursue as we climbed. And we climbed. And we climbed. And we climbed.
Goliath’s wings beat the air frantically pulling us higher and higher. The clouds obscured the ground far below us. Scar slowly but steadily gained on us as we rose. Although Goliath was smaller and lighter, Scar’s enormous wings easily carried her toward her target - us.
Goliath slowed down. The air became bitterly cold. Ice started to collect on the tips of his wings and on my eyelashes. The air thinned, making it difficult for both of us to breath. There wasn’t a lot of oxygen at this height. I was counting on that. Scar soared closer.
I turned and watched her gain on us. She opened her mouth and launched a stream of fire straight at us. The flames fizzled and died as they left her mouth. The lack of oxygen and the extreme cold combined to thwart Scar’s deadly intentions. It’s simple science - fire can’t burn without oxygen. If she wanted us she was going to have to do things the old fashioned way - she was going to have to eat us.
Clearly, the dragon had no problem with that. She powered closer with a shriek of frustration. Goliath could go no higher. I was on the verge of unconsciousness from the extremely high altitude. I patted my partner on his neck and he immediately obeyed my command. Pulling his wings tight into his sides, he let himself fall straight back toward the earth. I wrapped my legs inside the saddle straps to further secure myself to Goliath’s back. We hurtled downward straight toward Scar’s open, waiting mouth. I unslung Merv’s bag from across my chest, gripping it by the strap.
Goliath fell to one side, transforming our backwards fall into a forward dive. Like a plane that has stalled and reversed direction, we now raced headlong toward the pursuing dragon. Scar’s eyes lit up with the realization that her next meal was coming to her. I gazed into the dragon’s mouth trying to steel my will and steady my hands. As we hurtled closer to becoming a snack, I began to swing the satchel around my head like a lasso. Around and around it sailed.
The distance closed to a hundred and fifty feet. Then to a hundred. Goliath held our course. At fifty feet, Scar roared in anticipation. Goliath shrieked a gryphon battle cry. I yelled because I didn’t want to be left out. At thirty feet, I took aim. The space between us shriveled away. I threw Merv’s satchel directly into the dragon’s open mouth. Goliath veered sharply away to the left as my package sailed from my hand and disappeared down the throat of the great beast. A large CLACK sounded right next to my ear as Scar’s enormous teeth snapped together, mere inches from my head. As planned, the dragon swallowed the satchel. And nothing happened. I considered it a successful failure.
We rolled tightly several times and continued past the dragon, still locked in a steep dive. Scar wasted precious little time. She adjusted course and continued her pursuit. Her wings had given her the advantage going up. Her weight gave her the advantage now. She closed on us fast. Goliath and I raced for the thick clouds that obscured the ground below. I heard the dragon inhale sharply. Scar took the biggest breath possible. I had no doubt about what was about to happen. As we pierced the veil of the clouds, I saw an orange flash behind me. Scar had found her flame.
Goliath and I passed through the clouds quickly. As we broke free into open sky, a large explosion ripped the heavens apart. An orange glow filled the sky above the clouds. The shockwave from the blast barreled into Goliath and I, pushing us toward the ground faster than my partner could handle. We spiraled out of control.
And then it started raining. It started raining green scales. Scar had exploded! My plan had worked!
Merv and I had discussed at great length how we were going to battle Scar. Swords and spears certainly weren’t going to be effective against the great beast. While we were preparing the fuse for a signal rocket, I had an idea. Using Merv’s formula for gunpowder we constructed several packets filled with the rudimentary substance. These we placed in Merv’s leather bag along with paper for packing, giving the illusion to Fowler that the Keys to Forever resided in the satchel along with all our research. The problem was delivering our homemade bomb to Scar without it exploding prematurely outside her body. We couldn’t take a chance that her thick, hardened scales would protect her from the blast.
Merv solved that issue. He apparently had ridden in several hot air balloons back in his adventuring days. Recalling how cold the air became and how hard it was to breathe at great heights, we reasoned that Scar would not be able to ignite her breath if we could get her high enough. We took a big gamble but the bigger the gamble the sweeter the reward. I had the Jaguar’s Claw and the Heart of Ra, along with all our references stored inside the pack on my back. I couldn’t believe my plan was working! We had kicked Cyrus Fowler’s and Scar’s butts!
Unfortunately I didn’t have time to celebrate our victory. The ground had replaced the dragon as my enemy. Goliath struggled to regain control. His wings desperately beat the air. Two other gryphons raced alongside us, attempting to render aide. One moved in front and used his body to help slow our uncontrolled descent. The other moved into a position above us and grasped the saddle straps on either side of me with his claws. He pulled up as hard as he could, trying to correct our trajectory and level us out. The ground loomed before us.
Goliath let out a scream of defiance as we crashed into the earth. Using his body to shield mine, the great gryphon took the brunt of the crash. As we tumbled across the mountain top, I heard, what I’m sure was, one of his wings break. He howled in pain as we rolled to a rest in the center of the clearing.
The world continued to spin. I slowly got my bearings. I was beaten, battered and bruised, but suffered no permanent damage. I wish I could have said the same thing for Goliath. He didn’t look good. I
untangled myself from the saddle and knelt down to check on my partner. He regarded me with his unblinking eye.
“You saved my life,” I whispered. “Again. And most likely, you have saved the life of Princess Pitter Pat as well. Lie still, my friend. I’ll get you help.”
Goliath stared at me. The intensity behind his gaze was almost unnerving. With great effort, he lifted his head and motioned toward the cave. His message was clear. I patted the noble creature on the neck and grabbed my staff, freeing it from the straps on the saddle. His head fell back to the ground, eyes closing for the final time. He was gone. Tears sprang to my eyes (I’m not even going to pretend that I had something in them). This creature had given his life for mine. I could not fail my friends. To do so would render his sacrifice meaningless.
I hesitated a moment more and then ran as fast as my weakened body would allow toward the dragon’s lair. Scales, large chunks of dragon and a piece of her wing decorated the grassy landscape. I weaved through the smoldering obstructions and entered the darkness of the cave.
The smell was horrible. The odors of rotted meat and festering decay overwhelmed my senses. Bones, some still holding flesh, littered the cavern. They ranged in size from very small to very large, the remnants of Scar’s food. Unidentifiable liquids pooled and congealed all over the dragon’s former lair. The floor was slick and treacherous. The dark space stank of death.
The site that greeted me made increasingly little sense. Merv lay unconscious on the floor of the cave. A small trickle of blood ran down his face. An educated guess told me that he had been struck from behind.
Harold the former Herald was also unconscious on the floor. Both of his eyes were now black. He had clearly taken a beating. I could only assume that Merv had orchestrated Harold’s thrashing prior to being attacked himself. What in the world had transpired here? Pat was nowhere to be found. None of what I saw made any sense.
I ran to Merv’s side and checked his condition. He had taken a pretty good shot to the head but looked like he’d be alright. I gently shook him, careful to not aggravate his injured condition.
“Merv.” I continued to attempt to wake my fallen friend. “Merv. Can you hear me?”
The old adventurer’s eyes fluttered open briefly then slid shut.
“Merv,” I intoned again. “Where’s Pat? Who did this to you?”
Once again, his eyes opened and he whispered a name. I was certain I had not heard correctly so I asked again.
“Who did this to you, Merv?”
“Cyrus Fowler,” he croaked and slipped back into unconsciousness.
My friend had to be mistaken. I had seen Fowler plummet to his death with my own eyes. A cold chill ran down my spine despite my certainty. There had to be another explanation. Merv probably had a concussion.
A scraping sound and a muffled grunt behind me alerted me that I was not alone. The cold chill moved from my spine and overtook the rest of my body. I spun around to see Cyrus Fowler emerge from the shadows at the rear of the cave. Pat, her hands still bound, was held tight against his chest. A knife hovered inches from her throat - Merv’s knife. I must have looked like I’d seen a ghost.
“You’re dead,” I stammered.
“News of my death has been greatly exaggerated,” Fowler said with a twisted smile. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Give me the stones, you troublesome pest.”
“I saw you fall.”
“Well then it’s a good thing I had my ring, isn’t it? You know, the same ring you saw Harold use to transport himself and the Princess here.”
Fowler talked to me like I was a child. Frankly, I felt like a child. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. Of course he had used his big black scarily pretty ring to save himself. Come on, Eli, get your head in the game.
The ring did present some very interesting questions. I had two theories about how it might work. It had to operate on either some type of wormhole technology or on a molecular disintegration-reintegration platform.
Wormhole theory, the simpler of the two options, hypothesizes that great distances can be traveled by tearing a hole in one point in space. Space is then folded in on itself to shorten the distance and a type of tunnel or bridge then connects that point to another place. This allows the traveler to cross great distances in the blink of an eye. In my experience, which, I like to believe is great, wormholes tend to be difficult to establish and maintain, require enormous amounts of power, and are generally unstable. Despite those drawbacks, wormhole theory still presented the most logical and probable explanation for the ring’s capabilities. Especially since Fowler had access to some very advanced technology.
Matter disintegration-reintegration theory, on the other hand, is basically undoing an object at the molecular level, transporting it to another place, and then putting the object back together again. Think about people being transported in the Star Trek movies. It’s a dangerous procedure. Every single molecule has to be put back in exactly the right place or there could be serious problems. For instance, your nose could rematerialize on the back of your head or worse, your nose could rematerialize on the small of your back. You’d spend the rest of your life smelling your own butt.
As complicated as the disintegration-reintegration process is, I didn’t think the rings could house the technology required to successfully teleport a person. Had to be wormholes.
I’m doing it again. Sometimes my mind works overtime when confronted with a unique or novel question. Again, I offer my apologies.
I glanced up to find Cyrus Fowler gazing at me curiously. My lapse in attention had not gone unnoticed.
“I’m sorry. Am I boring you? You seem to have dozed off there,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Rest assured, I am totally focused, Fowler,” I replied ... Now. “Let her go. You win.” I took off my back pack and held it out in front of me.
“Of course, I win, boy. I always win. But I think a lesson is required under the circumstances.”
That didn’t sound good at all. Fowler’s eyes blazed with madness and anger.
“You killed my dragon!” Fowler screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “You killed my dragon and you killed my birds! Do you really think those acts will go unpunished?”
“Your dragon and your birds tried to kill me,” I replied. “On more than one occasion, I might add. There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt, Fowler. Take the Stones and leave us in peace.”
“You can’t really believe that you are walking out of this cave alive after what you’ve done.” It was a statement, not a question. “You have taken my dragon and my birds, things that were very dear to my heart. So, I will return the favor, boy. I will take something that you cherish, something near and dear to your heart.”
Fowler pushed the knife’s tip into the side of Pat’s neck. A thin trickle of blood ran from the small wound. She screamed but the sound was muffled by the gag. The man in black grinned at her discomfort.
“Now you get to watch her die, boy. Then, I’m going to kill the old man,” he continued. His insanity was clear. He was overcome by the loss of his evil pets. If there was ever a rational part of Cyrus Fowler, it was gone. There could be no compromise.
Pat caught my attention with her eyes. She nodded slightly, indicating the ground at her feet. I shook my head ‘no’. Whatever she was planning was too dangerous. She nodded again, more insistently this time. She had the same look of defiance in her eyes that I had seen the first time I met her.
“You have two choices, boy. Give me the staff and your bag and I will kill you all quickly. Or, you can refuse, and I will take my time killing each one of you in a most painful manner.” Fowler had regained some of his composure. Hopefully, I could do something about that.
“Let me get this straight. Give you the artifacts and we all die or refuse and we all die. Is that about right?” I winked at Pat, alerting her to be ready. “Are you stupid?”
The question caught Fowler off guard. He stood before me
struggling to find an answer.
“Kill her,” I continued. “Kill her, a girl I met only a few days ago, and kill the old man. I’ve known him for a shorter time than I’ve known her. I don’t care, you buffoon. I was only using them to try and get home.”
“You lie, boy. I know you have feelings for both of them. It will hurt you to watch them die.”
“Wrong again, you idiot. I mean how could you be so stupid? You are as dumb as that lumbering dragon you used to have.” Fowler flinched at the mention of his dearly departed pet. I pushed a little harder. “I don’t care!” I shouted. “In fact, let me show you how much I don’t care. I’m leaving.” I turned and began walking out of the cave.
“Stop!” Fowler demanded. His control had slipped away. The mention of his dragon and my threatened departure had pushed him back into unstable territory. I kept walking. “Stop now or she dies!”
“See you around, bird man. Don’t let all that fresh dragon meat go to waste,” I said over my shoulder. “Maybe you could use it to feed your birds. Oh, right. Never mind,” I laughed.
Fowler came unhinged. He pulled the knife from Pat’s throat and pointed it at me. “You will pay dearly for crossing me, boy! I will kill you!”
Pat’s move could not have been more perfectly timed. With all her might, she stomped down on Cyrus Fowler’s right foot. A sharp SNAP told me she had probably broken some of his bones. The blow surprised her captor. He gasped in pain, his grip on his hostage loosening ever so slightly. It was all Pat needed. She capitalized on the man in black’s confusion. The princess snapped her head back and into Fowler’s mouth and nose. CRACK! The impact of her head butt was bone-crunchingly effective.
Fowler reflexively dropped the knife and reached for his ruined face. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose.
Free of her captor’s grip, Pat ran toward me and the open mouth of the cave. Her hands were still tied behind her back, making her flight across the slick floor even more treacherous.
Fowler screamed in a combination of rage and pain at this unanticipated turn of events. Desperation oozed from his pores like the blood pouring through the fingers covering his mouth and nose.
I ran to Pat and untied her hands. She ripped the gag from her mouth and spit out an additional piece of cloth. As she rubbed the feeling back into her hands, she turned back to Fowler.
“That was the worst tasting thing I have ever had in my mouth,” she complained, spitting again. “Thou hast failed, villain. Thou and thine accomplice, Harold, will now face the full wrath of my father and his army!”
“An army that is marching here now,” I cheerfully added.
Fowler stood frozen, eyes wide with fear, anger, and desperation. “This isn’t over yet, brat!” he exclaimed. With lightning speed, the man in black leapt across the cave. He rolled, retrieving Merv’s knife, and continued toward his intended target.
Fowler’s intentions were clear. His target was Merv, who remained unconscious on the floor. As he picked up the knife, I reached into my pack and removed Merv’s paperweight. In an attempt to fool Fowler into thinking that we actually did possess the Dragon’s Scale, Merv and I had wrapped the stone with the strange symbols in a piece of cloth. It was a little larger than the Jaguar’s Claw and the Heart of Ra, but it was the best we could do on short notice.
I hefted the stone, feeling its weight in my hand. I yelled across the cave, “Fowler! This ends here and now!”
The man in black had reached Merv’s side. He had the knife a few inches from Merv’s throat. Fowler snapped his head toward me just as I released the stone from my grip. I hurled the rock with everything I had; my best fastball.
I flung the rock across the cave as hard as I could. Fowler didn’t have time to even close his eyes. My aim was true. With a sickening thud, the former paperweight turned baseball smashed into the already damaged face of Cyrus Fowler. His head jerked back from the impact. POP! The knife slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor.
The weapon of Fowler’s destruction fell to the hard cave floor and cracked. My whole body immediately began to tingle; an all too familiar sensation.
A bright green light seeped out of the cracked rock, giving the cave an eerie glow.
Fowler stood where he had been struck, swaying involuntarily. His eyes rolled up into his head and he muttered, “Of course. The key is locked inside the stone, an open secret, never known.” He lost consciousness and fell over backwards.
Realization hit me like a rock to the face. The Dragon’s Scale! All this time, Merv had been in possession of the Dragon’s scale! It had been right under our noses. The rock had even been wrapped in parchment referring to the stone guardian. We had translated it as the stone’s guardian. Amazing!
The green light grew stronger, melting away the rock around it. The tingle intensified, an electric current coursing through my body. A vortex was about to open!
“Pat, I know this is going to sound crazy, but we have to get Merv up. He and I are about to leave.”
“Leave?” she questioned. “What art thou talking about, Eli?”
“A portal is about to open,” I explained. “Merv and I have to travel through it. You need to get out of here and find your father’s army. I have to know that you are safe before I go.”
Pat nodded in understanding. I ran to Merv and helped him sit up. His breathing was shallow.
“Merv. We have to go Merv. I found the Dragon’s Scale! A vortex is about to open, old friend!”
Merv’s eyes fluttered open. “You found it, my boy? Good heavens! Where did you find it?”
“You had it all along. It was hidden inside the stone you were using as a paperweight.” I smiled at the perplexed look on my friend’s face. “Let’s get you up so we can try to get home.”
I helped the elder man get to his feet. When I was sure he was stable, I walked over to the remains of Merv’s rock. The Dragon’s Scale glowed from within the remnants. A glance in my pack revealed the Jaguar’s Claw and the Heart of Ra glowing as well, each pulsing in sync with the green stone. I reached down and picked up the Key to Forever, as well as what was left of its guardian.
An unusual type of metal coated the inside of the Dragon’s Scale’s hiding place. I theorized that the metal kept the stone from reacting with other Keys to Forever like the ones I already possessed. The metal acted as a type of shield of some sort.
I deposited the Dragon’s Scale and the curious metal into my pack. I turned and faced Pat.
“I wish we had more time, Eli,” she began.
“So do I, your highness,” I grinned.
“Thank thee for everything. I, my father, and our kingdom owe thee a great debt. Thou hast rid us of Scar and revealed traitors in our midst. Thou art truly a hero, Eli Arnold, Confuser and Slayer of dragons.”
Pat smiled and hugged me tightly. We parted and she kissed me on the cheek. Tears filled her eyes as we said our final goodbyes. She moved to Merv and embraced him fiercely.
“Take care of Eli, Merv. I will miss thee so much”
“I hope we will meet again someday, Princess. I have so enjoyed watching you grow into a beautiful young woman. Please tell your father how much I admire and respect him and that I will miss him too.”
“I will, old friend,” Pat sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“Go find help, Pat. I want you safely away from here before we travel,” I said.
Pat turned and headed for the mouth of the cave. A flash of light toward the back of the cavern signaled that a portal had opened. I watched Pat hurry out. Merv retrieved his knife while I gathered up my pack and the Signpost. Fowler and Harold still lay unmoving on the floor of the cave.
“Let’s go, lad,” Merv said.
I headed for the open rift. I could feel the pull of the vortex growing stronger and stronger as I got closer to its event horizon. Unsurprisingly, the portal’s forces wreaked havoc on my perception of time.
Suddenly, Pat rushed back into the cave and ran straight
for me and Merv.
“Eli!” she yelled. “Please don’t go!” She barreled past Merv and into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I love you, Eli,” she whispered in my ear.
“I love you too, Pat, but Merv and I don’t belong here. We have to go. Please understand.”
She squeezed her arms tighter around me. “Then take me with you,” she pleaded.
“You wouldn’t belong there anymore than we belong here. You have to know that, Pat.”
The rift began to get smaller behind me. Merv noticed it too.
“We have to go, lad,” he said behind Pat.
“Oh, what’s the rush? You should stay, boy,” the words were mangled by Fowler’s broken and busted lips. This guy would not stay down!
“Get out of here, now!” I yelled at Pat. She took a step toward the entrance, but found her path blocked by Harold. The former herald had found his feet.
Fowler lunged toward the rift in an attempt to travel. Merv blocked his path, grappling with the larger man.
“Go, Eli. I’ll hold him off,” Merv screamed.
“I’m not going without you, Merv!”
Fowler doubled his efforts to get to me or the rift, I wasn’t sure which. Merv held firm but was slowly being backed toward the portal. Pat moved behind me as the two combatants came closer. With a final surge, Fowler came over Merv and grabbed the strap of my backpack with his right hand.
“If I can’t go through the vortex, no one is going through,” he hissed.
Merv was losing ground fast. I tried to free myself from this madman’s grasp. I pried at his fingers with my own. Merv looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. Time slowed down and sped up. The effect was dizzying and disorienting. Merv’s smile seemed to last a lifetime. I tried to yell ‘No!’ but nothing came out of my mouth. Releasing his hold on Fowler, Merv turned and pushed Pat and I into the rift. I heard him yell, “Promise me you’ll come back for me, lad.”
“I promise!” I yelled back, but the words were scattered throughout the rivers of time. Multicolored flashes exploded in my vision, replaced by the intense green light of the Dragon’s Scale. Darkness then overwhelmed all colors. A large darker shadow sped out of the inky blackness and appeared to attach itself to my pack. I could feel the additional weight but could not locate its source as we hurtled through time.
I vaguely remember hearing Fowler scream as the rift closed around his arm. I held Pat tightly, making sure we traveled to the same time and place. A glance at her face told me that she was not going to handle time travel well. As blackness enveloped us, I promised myself that I would find a way to return and save Merv and to get Pat home. Now Brady, Merv, and Pat were counting on me. I closed my eyes and embraced the droning silence of the vortex. I had no idea how I was going to keep those promises.