Omega Dragon
Copyright © 2015 by Bryan Davis
Published by Scrub Jay Journeys
All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in printed reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (printed, written, photocopied, visual electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Print Edition ISBN: 978-1-946253-66-8
EPUB Edition ISBN: 978-1-946253-65-1
Mobi Edition ISBN: 978-1-946253-64-4
Omega Dragon is the fourth of four books in the youth fantasy fiction series, Children of the Bard. CHILDREN OF THE BARD is a registered trademark of Bryan Davis.
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
When The Bones of Makaidos came out, I thought the Dragons in our Midst story world had come to an end. After eight books, more than a million words, and a final chapter that provided a satisfying end, it seemed appropriate to wrap up the tales. Then a new idea developed, and it birthed a third four-book series that gave life to new characters and ignited fresh adventures. Children of the Bard proved to be more than a worthwhile addition.
When you read Omega Dragon, you will see that the tale has reached a conclusion. Of course, it is always possible to add more tales, and I might do so in short-story format, but I trust that this is the last novel that will feature Billy, Bonnie, Walter, Ashley, and the rest of gang.
I hope that these twelve novels have been a blessing to you. They certainly have been to me. I thank God for the opportunity to reach so many readers with themes that have touched their hearts in a lasting way.
It would be impossible to thank every person who provided help as these stories came to life, so please accept this blanket message of gratitude to all of you who offered a helpful hand. I would, however, like to single out a couple of people. First, I am thankful for my wife, Susie, who has been a tireless champion of my stories and me as a writer. Without her, I could never have persevered through this long writing journey.
Second, I am grateful for the late Dan Penwell of AMG Publishers who opened the door for these adventures. His foresight allowed many thousands of readers an opportunity to obtain a viewing portal into Heaven’s glory.
May God bless each one of you with heavenly vision so that you may perceive the heart of God. Speak the truth, live the truth, and be the truth. Never let the faithless ones change any of those three principles. They are the means by which even the blind will be able to see the Light.
“Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to every man according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter by the gates into the city. (Revelation 22:12-14 NASB)
MERLIN’S ANSWER
I spoke a riddle long ago
Of dragons and their flight.
Are dragons vile or tame? I asked.
Are tricks concealed from sight?
And now at final eventide
I ask to those who’ve learned,
Did dragons set your hearts afire?
Or did your soul get burned?
The flame’s design is not to harm,
To burn, to sear, to scorch;
A lantern shines, a candle glows.
The fire is a torch.
The pages turn; the words seep in.
The flame reveals our fears.
The puzzle pieces interlock
When minds explore frontiers.
We know why heroes charge to war
While cowards flee in haste;
A hero grasps for Heaven’s flames
And asks for just a taste.
Then like a flood, infernos blaze;
A hero’s heart is born.
He draws his sword, the light of truth,
And night melts into morn.
From tale to tale we felt the flames
Of dragons, girls, and kings.
They burned the chaff; they polished hearts;
They helped us spread our wings.
So reader friends, I tell you how
To solve the riddle’s quest.
Entrust your heart to flames of those
Who pass this simple test.
They tear none down; their words uplift;
They set our wings to flight;
They blaze a trail, a holy path.
The shadows flee their light.
The greatest test of all is love
In sacrificial death.
We know a dragon’s virtue by
A dragon’s dying breath.
CHAPTER 1
THE LIFE RESERVOIR
Frozen faces, pale and grim, lay sealed under a sheet of ice—lost … forlorn … without purpose.
Or so they seemed.
Standing at the edge of the reservoir, Merlin kept his stare on the nebulous faces, soulless phantasms that held no thoughts as they drifted in misty swirls under the icy surface. Mindless or not, they were a bit more animated than usual. Perhaps a newly slain martyr had recently infused a surge of energy into this sacred pool.
He pushed the bottom end of his walking staff into the thick ice. Radiance surrounded the smooth acacia wood and rode upward until it reached a candlestone wedged within a triple fork at the top. The candlestone, a crystalline gem about the size of his thumb, absorbed the light, made it spin around its dark core, and sent it out again in a dim yellow beam parallel to the floor.
He eyed the beam—still not white and far from bright enough. Even with the recent martyr’s added life energy, the reservoir had not yet collected a sufficient amount. The energy streams trapped below would need a significant injection as well as a resurrection to stir the frozen cauldron in order to keep the streams active. Until that time, the forlorn faces would have to stay in this frigid crucible. Releasing the energy prematurely would be a tragic waste, and it would be too late to fill the reservoir again since the time to deploy the energy might soon be at hand.
Merlin inhaled stinging cold air and let it out in a stream of white vapor. Troubling. Heartbreaking. More saints would die to bring about life. Yet wasn’t that always the case? Without suffering, there is no sacrifice. Without sacrifice, there is no love. Without love, there is no purpose to life.
At the opposite side of the reservoir, a circle of red light glimmered about three feet from the ground. Merlin pulled the staff from the ice. What could it be? No red light existed anywhere else in this unworldly chamber. If only another source of illumination were available, something stronger than the weak radiance emitted by hundreds of glowbats hanging from the rocky ceiling or perched on the waist-high stalagmites that dotted the floor.
He set a foot on the ice. It seemed solid … so far. As he shifted his weight, a crackling sound rose. He leaned back and lifted his foot. A network of tiny white cracks appeared, as if his boot had imprinted a sparkling spiderweb. Strange. The ice was thick. Perhaps a thin top layer had grown weak.
He gazed at the red light again. Might the weakness in the ice be a sign of trouble on Earth or Second Eden and perhaps the reason for the appearance of the hovering beacon? Being charged with guarding this sanctuary meant that he had
to investigate.
He stepped again on the ice. Although the crackling noise returned, it didn’t seem as loud as before. He shifted forward and set his other boot ahead of the first. Then, sliding along, he glided toward the red light. Every move raised more cracks. Below the ice, the misty phantoms congregated. The usual ghostly faces appeared within the swirls as well as appendages brushing at his boots.
Shivering, Merlin slid a bit faster. Although only life energy abided below, the forlorn expressions never failed to raise an extra chill. For some reason, when people died at the hands of evil, death imprinted their faces within the energy, as if the souls inhabited the animated streams. Yet, of course, the souls themselves had moved on to a safe place, free at last from their tormentors.
Ahead, the red light grew clearer—a sphere that floated behind an icy, transparent boundary wall that reflected an image of himself drawing closer, his arms spread and jittery, like a feeble old man walking on a tightrope.
After several minutes, his foot reached the far edge of the frozen pool. Ahead, his reflection appeared to be cradling the red orb at waist level, now looking more egg-shaped than spherical. His face wore a smile, certainly out of place considering the gloom in this frigid chamber.
Merlin raised a hand and touched the wall of ice—cold and clear as crystal. His reflection’s hand, however, stayed down. How odd! Surely his squinting examination should etch a deep furrow in his reflection’s brow, yet the brow remained slack. Not only that, his hair was too neatly trimmed, and—
He touched his beard, full and scraggily from too many years guarding this chamber, but the man in the reflection was the picture of his freshly shaven self. How could this be?
The reflection’s lips moved, and a muffled voice penetrated the curtain. “Merlin, you seem consternated. I assume you are surprised to see me.”
Merlin drew his head back. “Charles Hamilton?”
“The very same.” Charles ran a hand across his tunic, a perfect match to Merlin’s, including a belt that slung low at the front of the dark leather material. “An angel suggested that I wear this in order to keep from startling you with the glory of heavenly attire.” He tugged on a pant leg. “The trousers are a bit baggy, but they will do.”
“The angel spoke wisely.” Merlin eyed the red orb in Charles’s hand. It appeared to be an ovulum, but why would he carry it to this realm? “What brings you here, my friend?”
“I bear this ovulum.” Charles lifted it to chest level. “It is a communications device that should be quite useful, but I cannot enter where you are, so I will have to transport it through the barrier. Kindly be ready to catch it.” He pushed the ovulum against the wall. A hole began to form in the ice, though no water dripped. Merlin propped his staff against the wall and set his hands just below the hole. Inch by inch, the ovulum appeared on his side and illuminated the area with red light.
After several seconds, the ovulum popped through, and the hole sealed behind it. Merlin caught the ovulum and ran a thumb across its smooth, glassy surface. A core of red light pulsed deep inside. A bitter wind swirled, forcing him to draw his cloak closer. For a moment, he lost his balance and stepped back to regain it. The ovulum jostled in his grasp. A brighter light seeped out along a jagged crack around the perimeter.
“Are you all right, old chap?” Charles asked.
“Fine. Fine.” Merlin peered at the ovulum closely. This had to be the one that fractured back in the days when Elam and Hannah lived in Scotland and narrowly escaped Devin.
Charles pointed at the ovulum. “With this you will be able to monitor events as they unfold on Earth. We had a recent martyr incident, and prophecies are culminating at a rapid pace, so it will be essential that you stay informed.”
“I thought that might be the case. I noticed an infusion that stirred the pot a bit, but we need a new resurrection to activate the energy further. Or even better, the final surge that will deploy this reservoir to its prophesied use. Then I can finally leave this Siberian cell and go to Heaven. Having this creaking body restored reminded me of how old I am.”
Charles folded his hands at his waist. “Well, I don’t know if the newest martyr will meet that need. The young lady Karen Bannister, also known as Lauren, died in order to slay the foul demon Tamiel. She is still dead, but her brother, Charles, also known as Matt, will soon attempt to resurrect her in Abaddon’s Lair. If he succeeds, at the very least, the reservoir will be stirred.”
“Good. Good.” Merlin probed the ovulum’s depths. The red core slowly faded to white, revealing a tiny window. It wouldn’t take long to become accustomed to this viewing screen. “Do you know if these new events signal that my time in this icebox is nearing an end?”
“That depends on how people respond. A flood of evil has reached Earth’s shores, and it seems that it is overwhelming our remnant forces. Yet, we can hope for the best outcome.”
Merlin let his shoulders sag. “The best outcome might be to let the final curtain fall. This generation cries out for judgment to come upon their heads. Perhaps we should rescue our remnant and open the fiery gates of retribution.” He raised and lowered his feet in turn. “Let the grapes be trampled. Let the blood run high.”
Charles cringed. “Well, yes, that is an option that is being considered, but our remnant loved ones are still on Earth. Forces are at work to guide them through the plan you and I discussed before you came here.”
Merlin looked back at the frozen reservoir. “Will our plan really work? Arramos’s strategy is a two-edged sword. If he is allowed to get to the reservoir …”
“I understand your point all too well.” Charles’s lips thinned out. “A sword can cut deeply and cares not which neck it severs, whether good or evil. My main concern is with those whom I have guided over the years—William, Bonnie, Walter, and their friends and families. For years they have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, so they have come to expect victory in every battle and resurrection after death, which can make one take more risks than one ought. They have never experienced the finality of tragedy, of utter failure in the physical realm.”
“I assume by your countenance that such failure is likely.”
Charles looked down briefly, then met Merlin’s gaze again, his voice low and somber. “In order for these final days to bring forth the necessary fruit, God has removed the usual protections from his remnant.”
Merlin stroked his beard. “To put it succinctly, precious blood will spill, and resurrections to Earth will soon come to an end. Members of our remnant will die.”
“True on all counts.” Charles heaved a sigh. “Pray for their perseverance. Nothing will be more important than for William, Bonnie, and their loved ones to sustain their faith.”
“To be sure.” Merlin again caressed the ovulum. Its warm glow soothed his frigid fingers. “May God guide them all.”
“Indeed.” Charles clapped his hands as if to elevate the mood. “In any case, we expect that someone will soon make an attempt to join you there as a helper to release the energy.”
Merlin straightened. “Excellent. Who is this person who has the wisdom to navigate Jade’s puzzling path?”
“My sources are limited. I suspected that perhaps Joran and Selah would come, but then I saw them in Heaven and learned that their tasks on Earth have been completed, so that idea was dashed. I then heard that someone might come from Abaddon’s Lair. We just have to hope for a quick learner.”
“Ah! A dead person.” Merlin shook his head. “With no physical body, how will he be able to accomplish the task?”
“Or she, perhaps. As you know, Heaven holds countless female warriors.” Charles laid a hand over his heart. “Whether male or female, a resurrected person usually has bold faith and a sense of purpose.”
“I wouldn’t know from personal experience. The restored body I have now is not a truly resurrected one. I was supposed to go to Heaven with my wife, but when we faced the gates of Heaven, m
y wife entered, and I was turned away. Apparently I am not dead enough to qualify.”
Charles laughed. “Merlin, even if you were dead enough to enter Heaven, you would have volunteered for this quest. You are too much of an adventurer to miss the opportunity.”
Merlin allowed himself a smile. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve done something as insane as this before.”
“Indeed. Your days in the candlestone numbered many more than those you have spent in this chamber.”
Merlin glanced at one of the glowing bats hanging from the ceiling. “And the lighting is better here, though the food leaves much to be desired. Have you ever tasted a glowbat?”
“That is one delicacy that I have missed, thankfully.” As Charles backed away, his body faded. “It is time for me to go. I don’t know when your potential helper will try to solve Jade’s puzzle, but I pray that it will be soon.”
Merlin waved a hand. “Farewell, my friend. It seems that a full reunion is nearly at hand.”
Charles disappeared, replaced by Merlin’s real reflection. As expected, his hair had grown wild, and his beard was a matted mess. Such was one of the drawbacks of still being alive.
Cradling the ovulum, he retrieved his staff and slid his foot over the ice again. In the distance, a wavering light pierced the dimness, drawing closer. He squinted at the tiny glow. It appeared to be a bobbing flame, as if someone walked with a candle in hand, the flickering wick disturbed by the constant frigid breezes. Perhaps the ally from Abaddon’s Lair had already arrived.
Merlin hurried his pace, keeping his stare on the approaching light. If he could reach the opposite shore in time, this helper wouldn’t have to risk the danger of traveling over the slippery surface.
When he arrived at the edge, he halted. A glowbat took shape in the approaching light, flying in a haphazard line.
Merlin sat on the frozen floor and sighed. It was all right. He could wait. As Charles had indicated, his time in this place had been a blink of an eye compared to the centuries in the candlestone. And the glorious events that would take place once the helper arrived to release the energy in the reservoir … Ah! That would be worth the wait.