King Arthur drew his sword, but Merlin raised his hand. “Not here. Not now. She has yet to fulfill her purpose.”
Morgan, dressed in a silky black gown, waltzed up to Merlin, laughing. “I saw you mooning over the gateway. Do you miss your sweet wife, my old friend?”
Merlin clenched his fists, and his lips turned white, yet he neither advanced to attack nor raised his hand. Serrated words slipped through his grinding teeth. “Leave it to you to attack a man by killing his defenseless wife.”
“Oh, but Merlin,” she crooned, “there is no more effective tool. Taking a man’s woman is the same as ripping out his heart and pouring his life’s blood on the ground.” She patted his cheek, pursing her lips as though speaking to a child. “And watching you wither over the past three years has been such a joy.” She turned and gave the king a mock curtsy. “Your Majesty. It is an honor.”
King Arthur drew back his sword. A brilliant ray erupted from its tip and shot into the sky. “Merlin, step aside, and I will slay this foul witch where she stands.”
Merlin stayed put. “She is a wraith, more dead than alive. In your hands, the sword would do nothing more than reveal her nature. Killing her requires much more.”
The king pushed forward and shoved Merlin aside. With a wild swipe, he sliced through Morgan’s waist. Her body absorbed the sword’s light, like sunlight coursing through her veins. Her face transformed. A sultry, painted mask melted away, replaced by a bloody raven’s head, its mouth agape in a raging scream and its red eyes aflame.
Arthur fell to his seat, and the sword’s light died away. Valcor rushed to his side, sliding his hand behind the king’s shoulder. Morgan, returning to her female form, glowered at the king. “You are all such fools. Knowing about my strategy will not protect your wives now or in the future. All who oppose me will feel my wrath, and no loved one is safe, man, woman, or child.”
Morgan sublimated to black fog and disappeared into the ellipse. Seconds later, the portal cleared to a pulsing red glow.
King Arthur jumped to his feet. “That sorceress from hell will not kill my queen.” He waved the sword in the air. “I will apply the king’s cap and ward off her evil minions.”
“That will shield her from the demons,” Merlin said, “but I don’t know how it will affect Morgan’s ability to see her. She is not one of them.”
The king relit Excalibur. “In any case, I must do what I can.” With the sword lighting the way, he sprinted down the narrow path.
Professor Hamilton’s shoulders slumped, his face ashen, his eyes joyless. His voice carried the death rattle of a moribund man. “There are two poems at the end, but I have no more strength to read.”
Sir Patrick took Fama Regis, keeping it open to the same page. “One of the poems is the prayer Billy read as he departed, the other is one for him to recite once he gets to the dragon resting place.” He put his finger on the page. “A final note tells him to take along one companion, a worthy one who, as it says, ‘would never leave or forsake you, no matter what.’”
Patrick hugged the professor, patting him on the back. “Do you believe your own wife is in the dungeon?”
The professor’s arms hung limp, his voice still barely audible. “Yes. . . . Yes, I do.”
Patrick released him, keeping one hand on his arm as he helped him sit. “Then let me tell the rest of the story, for, as you know, I was there with Merlin. What happened that night has replayed in my dreams countless times, especially the prophetic song I will relate. I have long known what a flashing rubellite means, and when you hear the story, you will understand why I could not tell Billy what I knew.”
Patrick closed the book and laid it in the professor’s lap, then stepped back and addressed the group as if ready to deliver a lecture. But unlike any stoic or monotonous university teacher, his eyes came alive with adventure, as though he were still viewing the events he was about to relate. Reaching out his arms to hug empty space, he spoke in a vivid storyteller’s voice:
When the king departed, I embraced Merlin. “My dear friend, what can I do to help? I will go to that place myself and rescue your wife if you will only tell me how.”
Merlin pulled away from my arms. “At this time there is no way for a living person to enter that place. If you were to die, however, you would go there, for it is the haunt of dead dragons.”
“Dead dragons?” I peered into the aura, but red mist clouded my view. “Then why did they appear to be humans?”
“They walk there as the humans they would have been had they been born to Adam’s offspring or else transformed into humans as you were. But since they were designed never to die, they wander in futility—without a human soul, without hope, and without a redeemer.”
I lifted a thin, leather cord that hung around Merlin’s neck. A crude, wooden cross dangled at the bottom. “Humans have a redeemer. Why not dragons?”
Merlin wrapped his palm around the cross and drew his fist to his breast. “The human messiah, fully God and fully man, was sent to rescue the offspring of Adam, a creature made in the image of God. A messiah for dragons, who were made in the image of man, would have to be fully man and fully dragon.”
“Fully man and fully dragon?” I pointed at myself. “Isn’t that what I am?”
“Almost.” Merlin released the cross and placed his hand on my chest. “Although you have a human body, you still lack an eternal human soul. If a dragon redeemer were to come, you would then have the choice to step fully into the human condition. You would lose all dragon genetics and receive a human soul.”
I placed my hand over Merlin’s. “And then the human redeemer would lead me to everlasting life.”
“Indeed.” Merlin’s face beamed like a proud grandfather’s. “In any case, the gateway has not yet been made ready. While I am away on my journey, it will be my mission to open a passage to Dragons’ Rest, using a device that I will call the Great Key. It will unlock the door that divides the two worlds. I believe there will come a time when that passage will be the salvation of both mankind and dragonkind.”
“Of both races?”
“Yes. The Watchers, the powerful demons of old who were banished to the abyss, are seeking a way out. Unfortunately, it seems that such an escape is possible, and all of mankind would be threatened by their reappearance.” Merlin lifted his head and gazed into the sky, a slight puff of white visible in his breath. “Hear the word of the Lord, my friend.”
While dragons seek the Holy Grail,
A star is plucked from seas of light.
He journeys through a tempest wind
And plunges into darkest night.
And finding dragons lost in ruin,
He sounds a trumpet to restore,
But as he sweeps the scattered bones,
The vermin follow to make war.
The foulest snakes of Satan’s brood
Will fly from pits on demon wings.
With loins on fire they lust for flesh
And seize the thrones of sleeping kings.
Merlin lowered his head, moving his gaze to the red aura. “I do not know the full meaning of this prophecy, but the Watchers are surely the foulest snakes.” He let out a long sigh and turned to me, his voice as thin as the vapor escaping with his words. “Is it a sin, Valcor, that my motivations sometimes veer toward self-interest? Although my first desire is to help the dragons find their way out of their prison, I also hope, in so doing, to provide a way of escape for my wife.”
I clasped Merlin’s shoulder. “It is no sin to seek what is best for your wife.”
“True enough, but I also have this yearning within. We were together for so many years, my soul longs for hers as though I am half a man without her by my side, perhaps even less than half.”
“God put that yearning in your heart when he joined you together. How can it be a sin?”
Merlin firmed his jaw and nodded, his voice strengthening. “I will oversee the salvation of the dragons. I will travel across the
boundaries of spiritual realms and guide the paths of those God has chosen to fulfill his plan.” He gripped my wrist, excitement spiking his voice. “As Elijah returned in power and spirit in the form of John the Baptist, so I will return in one of my descendants. That son of mine will also play the part of the magi, going to the place of the messiah’s birth, bearing three gifts—faith, truth, and wisdom—though each one of these gifts is a treasure the dragon messiah must also gain on his own, for it is impossible to lend someone your faith.”
Seeming stronger than ever, Merlin strode to the portal and set his hand on top. He pushed it down, squeezing the aura into the rubellite sitting on the ground below. As it compressed, a stream of energy popped out, like a frazzled lightning bolt. The stream spun around Merlin and me three times, then shot into the sky.
With my arms stiff at my side, I watched the sparkling current fade in the distance. “What was that?”
“I have no idea!” Merlin replied, his hand still on top of the portal.
“Is it a sign? Part of the prophecy?”
“I will seek wisdom on this mystery, but for now—” Merlin pressed the portal into the gem and picked it up—“I want you to take this rubellite. It was the gateway to the underworld for the last dragon king, and I intend to use it as the Great Key. Keep it safe. When I have set the plan of redemption in order, I will make sure the way to use this key is added to the king’s chronicles.”
He laid the stone in the palm of my hand. “Master Merlin! The rubellite is no longer pulsing.”
Merlin rocked the gem with his finger. “Makaidos! He has either died, or . . .” He gazed into the sky. “He has escaped.”
“My father? Escaped?” I tried to find a trace of the energy trail, but it had vanished. “What will happen to him? Where will he go?”
“I am not sure. He died before the transformation, and he has no body in which to reside. Unless he finds a way to reanimate his dragon carcass, he will be a wandering spirit.”
I held the gem in my fingertips. “Shall I tell Irene about this? After all, Makaidos was Irene’s father too, and you know what happened to my other sister.”
“Yes,” Merlin said, covering the stone with his hand, “but guard what you say. Tell her that the rubellite once belonged to her father and reflects the vitality of his mortal essence, but keep the rest to yourself. Since we don’t know what really happened to Makaidos, speculation about his fate would be foolhardy. The secret of the rubellite’s property as a gateway to Dragons’ Rest must remain a secret until after the new dragon king enters the prison. When he comes, he must find his own way.”
Patrick folded his hands over his waist. “When I showed the rubellite to Irene, she kept it for a time, then passed it back to me after Merlin’s departure from this world. For my part, I built my home where Merlin and I met the king. The oldest section of the house still stands, and its outer window is framed directly over the spot where the rubellite unveiled Dragons’ Rest. That very window became a portal to the human underworld, through which Billy and Bonnie entered the circles of seven.”
Patrick reached for the sword on the professor’s back and rested his hand on top of the hilt. “So you see, Charles, when I dubbed you Merlin, I was hoping, as his descendant, that you were the one about whom the original Merlin spoke. You have been God’s instrument, his voice crying in the wilderness to make straight the way of the dragon messiah. You were the magus who sojourned to the place of his birth and brought him gifts of truth and wisdom, then led him to faith in his own messiah. In so doing, you raised up the one who is called to lead the dragons out of their prison so that they, too, will have the opportunity to find the ultimate savior.”
A gentle smile grew on the professor’s face. “You and Merlin composed an ingenious plan, my old friend. When you sent me to West Virginia in search of the king’s heir, I had no idea that you already knew he was there. How could you be sure I would find him and give him the gifts?”
Patrick moved his hand from the sword to the professor’s shoulder. “Because you are the magus, and you followed the star, the guiding light that led you westward. And I also knew your character, that you possessed the royal gifts of faith, truth, and wisdom, and you would undoubtedly give whatever you could to the coming king.” He straightened his body and crossed his arms over his chest. “I had nothing else to do with it. God and Merlin did the rest. I merely waited for you to bring Billy to England for his own wilderness journey.”
The professor rose to his feet, a hint of anxiety in his expression. “And does he now take the road to Jerusalem? Will this be his Via Dolorosa?”
“I am not sure how closely Billy’s journey must parallel that of the human messiah.” Patrick tapped the cover of Fama Regis. “All I know is that he has read the king’s portion of the story, and he has gone into the prison to rescue the dragons in whatever manner God chooses. He also read that Merlin’s wife is there somewhere, and, knowing him, he will try to rescue her as well.”
Professor Hamilton’s head dipped slightly. “But he doesn’t know my wife is there.”
“No,” Patrick replied, shaking his head. “I don’t see how he could.”
Marilyn, who had listened intently to the stories, collected herself enough to speak. “Professor, I have a question.” Closing her eyes, she laid a hand on her forehead as if suffering from a bad headache. “When you said Via Dolorosa, were you talking about the road to Calvary?”
“Yes, Marilyn. It means the way of sorrows, the way of the cross.”
“That’s what I thought.” She wiggled her fingers over her tightly shut eyes. “So are you saying to be this dragon messiah, Billy has to die?”
After a few seconds of silence, the professor finally replied, his voice soft and caring. “Not necessarily, Marilyn. I think he will have a choice. But knowing William—”
“Stop!” Marilyn shouted, raising her hand. “I know what you’re going to say!” She slowly opened her eyes and wrapped her fingers around the flashing pendant. “I . . . I’m sorry Professor,” she said, patting him on the back. “This isn’t your doing.” She gave him the brightest smile she could. “I know that.”
Marilyn walked several steps away from the two gentlemen. Taking in a few shallow breaths, she looked up into the dark sky. “Dear God . . .” Her voice pitched higher, trembling. “Please bring my son back to me. I—” She grimaced and shook her head. “No. . . . No, that’s not it.” Taking a deep breath, she swallowed, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “You know what I need, Lord.” She lifted the pendant toward the sky. “But let your will be done.”
Chapter 9
DRAGONS’ REST
Ashley tapped her jaw and caressed one of her molars with her tongue. A slight vibration tickled her gums. She lowered her hand and released a long breath. Whew! The tooth transmitter was working.
Leaning forward to get a better view of the ground, she raised her voice a notch. “So, Mr. Samyaza. Where are you taking me?”
His gruff voice answered from the underbelly of the plane. “To a facility we equipped just for this purpose.”
“Equipped?” Ashley pressed her nose against the side window, trying to get a glimpse of the demon, maybe a wing or a foot, but she could see only darkness.
“You’ll recognize pieces of your Montana laboratory.”
Samyaza’s voice seemed agitated, as though Ashley’s questions irritated him, but she didn’t really care about staying on his good side, so she continued her probing. “You salvaged my lab? I thought it was in a shambles.”
“The parts we collected are in need of repair.”
“I’ll bet.” Ashley slid out of the pilot’s seat and tiptoed toward the back of the plane, ducking her head under the low ceiling. “Thousands of pounds of rocks don’t mix well with delicate equipment.”
“Well put, but we are confident in your abilities. You’ll have plenty of incentive.”
She lifted the lid on the crate, her hand still stinging from the
burn. Walter’s eyes peeked out, as big and white as ping-pong balls. She pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Remember, you’re not on board. I’m putting on an act.”
“What did you say?” Samyaza growled.
Ashley raised her voice again. “Is the inner core intact?”
“If you mean the lead box, it was bent but not broken.”
“Good.” She replaced the crate lid, noting a two-inch gap on one side, enough to provide air. She whispered into the gap, “After I’m out of sight, count to ten and try to find me.”
“What is out of sight?” Samyaza asked. “I can’t hear very well through the fuselage. It sounded like you’re trying to find something.”
“Is the engine out of light?” Ashley shouted. “Is the lens fried, or is it fine?”
“The engine is producing light, but the lens is shattered.”
Holding onto the seats on each side, she walked back up the aisle. “I’ll need a special kind of glass and a grinder for a new lens. Do you know where I can get those?”
“We anticipated that. There is a nearby town with several glassmakers. I’m sure we can procure whatever you need. Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”
“Look, Mr. Demon, I’m just thinking ahead.” She settled back into her seat and buckled her belt. “If you think you know how to do this, then be my guest.”
The plane shuddered. Ashley bounced in her seat, her belt keeping her from slamming against the ceiling. Walter’s crate banged against the cargo door.
“I am no fool,” Samyaza roared. “Don’t play me for one.”
After a few seconds, the ride smoothed out again. “Okay.” She held her hand against her chest, gasping. “I get . . . the picture. How long till we land?”