The luminescent surge washed through the court, and particles of sparkling light buzzed through the traitors like starving locusts. Their bodies melted away, and only swirls of twinkling effervescence remained, shields and armor clattering to the floor to mark where men had once stood.
Just before Excalibur’s beam flashed into his corner, Jared slammed the door shut. He could almost feel the rush of light crash against his escape hatch. He hoped its probing fingers would find no cracks, nowhere to seep through to grab another victim.
Jared pressed his hands against his body—his solid, intact body. Irene sat against the opposite wall, holding her arms around her knees. A single, wall-mounted lantern reflected in her wide eyes. Jared pressed his ear against the thick door but could hear nothing.
He waited, nervous and uncertain. The light had flashed around the room as if driven by wrath—possessing an intellect, a mind of fury. Never before had he felt such terror. As a dragon he had feared nothing, but now, without scales or lethal breath, he was helpless, trained only in the rudiments of combat.
Still carrying the book, he slowly pushed the door open, mentally shushing its barely audible squeaks. With one eye he peeked into the courtroom, trying to adjust to its candlelight. Gradually, the shadows dispelled. The room was barren; only dark lumps of armor lay scattered over the white stone floor, like black toadstools polluting a pristine field.
Jared gestured toward the wall lantern and whispered to Irene. “You had better put out that light so you will stay hidden.”
Irene nodded and stood to blow out the flame.
“Will you be frightened?”
“I was a dragon,” she replied, a sad smile gracing her lips. “I am accustomed to dark places.”
Jared stepped out into the metallic debris. He walked to the throne’s platform and placed the diary on Merlin’s chair. Littered beside the throne lay the remains of the first traitor, a swirl of sparks rising like glittering smoke. Jared picked up a shield and an empty mail shirt. The undergarments are gone but the armor remains! What does it all mean?
Jared stiffened. Rapid footsteps carried from the hall into the room, growing louder by the second. He looked back to see Irene peeking out of their hiding place, and he signaled wildly for her to get back and close the door. She ducked back inside, leaving the door partially open.
Jared rushed to a curtain behind the throne and twisted the silky fabric around his body. Through the veil he could see Devin march into the room. His shoes clacked and echoed in the strangely quiet chamber and then stopped dead still.
The armored knight stalked from the doorway to the center of the chamber, picking up mail shirts and letting them clatter back to the floor. He pivoted toward the throne, staring as if he could see Jared wrapped in the purple fabric. With a lunge, he leaped onto the platform and then stood still with his hands on his hips. Jared’s heart thumped so hard he could feel it pulsing in his throat. Should he fight? Should he run?
Devin suddenly leaned over. When he stood again, he held a sword in his hand—Excalibur. Its residual glow shone brightly, piercing through the veil. Devin, the lone remaining traitor, the self-styled knight, tightened his grip around the hilt, and the sword’s light vanished.
I’m such a coward! Jared steamed. If I were still a dragon, I’d—
Devin sheathed the sword and turned away. Jared heard the evil knight’s steps and the cackling of his maniacal laugh as he left the room. “Palin! Bring the stone!” he yelled, his voice fading in the distance.
Chills covered Jared’s skin, goose bumps that chided him, each one calling him a milksop for hiding like a thumb-sucking toddler behind his mother’s skirt. A boiling factory of rage and embarrassment sent pulses of blood toward his eyes, turning his face hot. When he was a dragon he would have sent a tsunami of white-hot fire roaring out of his mouth and nostrils to personally escort “Sir” Devin into a dragon’s version of hell. Welcome to my inferno you sniveling caitiff! Yet, Jared had become the sniveler, and cold sweat replaced the fiery blasts. Do all humans feel this way? Why do I feel so small and sick?
Jared snatched a mail shirt from the ground and threw it angrily across the room, his gaze following it as it slid to a stop in front of Merlin’s chair, his empty chair.
The book!
He scrambled over the armor and frantically searched around the chair, the throne, and then back to the chair. The book was gone!
Jared fumed. It must have been Devin! He was the only person in the room, the only one who could have stolen Merlin’s diary!
I am the worst of invertebrates! I let the man I called a worm steal two of the greatest treasures in all the world!
Jared grabbed a sword from the floor and screamed, “Devin, you son of a leprous jackal! You recreant thief, plucking treasures from dead men’s bones! Come back here and fight like a man!”
Jared’s eyes shot wide open when Devin appeared at the door, his shoulders squared and his jaw firmly set around a vicious smile. A gleaming gem swayed in front of his chest, dangling at the end of a gold necklace and absorbing swirls of sparkling light. It seemed to carry his malevolence as it drew in light as easily as the evil knight drew breath.
For a moment, Jared wanted to run. He had learned some swordplay, but he had little hope of matching blades with a knight, even a self-proclaimed one! His mind battled his body, and he cursed his petrifying fear.
If I run from this serpent, I will be the worst of infidels! It is time to be a man! He held his ground, raising his sword in a defensive posture. Devin laughed derisively and set the diary on the floor. He lifted the gleaming Excalibur with both hands, marched to meet Jared, and knocked his sword away with one swing of his forearms.
“No time to kill you properly,” Devin said. “The king’s army is closing in on the castle, so I came back here to search for an escape.” He looked past Jared toward the secret door, still ajar. “I cannot allow you to tell the king of my whereabouts, so I shall have to dispose of you without giving you a fair fight.”
Devin raised the sword again. Jared leaped forward, tackling the evil knight and wrestling him to the floor. As they fell, Jared felt Excalibur’s sting, the edge of the blade catching his neck and slicing deeply. Jared rolled on the floor in agony, blood spurting like a scarlet geyser.
Devin grabbed the diary and hustled for the escape door, closing it securely behind him while Jared lay writhing and pressing his palm against the hemorrhaging artery. The last thing Jared remembered was a dozen gauntleted hands lifting him, and then everything went black.
“Jared survived,” Clefspeare continued as the cinders on the wall faded to black, “but he was not the same man. He vowed never to hide from danger again nor fear any weapons of this earth.” Clefspeare relit the torch with a fiery snort, and everyone in his audience rubbed their eyes to adjust to the light. “He learned the ways of men and lived as one for over a thousand years, only to be returned to the draconic state you see before you now. Irene watched the cowardly Devin rush right past her, and she ran to help her adopted brother, carrying him to the physician with the help of the king’s knights who arrived only moments later. She, like Jared, married a normal human over a thousand years later, and she gave birth to a daughter, whom they christened—”
“Bonnie,” the professor finished.
“Yes. Bonnie. And she, like my son, has dragon traits. Billy has fiery breath with protective scales in his mouth, while Bonnie has dragon wings and can fly.”
“Wings hidden in her backpack,” the professor said in wonder. “Who could have guessed?” He stared at Billy, as though seeing him for the first time in his life. “Are there any others? Any other dragon children?”
“That is a mystery. In order to maintain secrecy, the remaining dragons rarely communicated with one another. I knew that Irene had a daughter, and I had heard rumors of other children. The slayers have been obsessed with finding any that might exist, and they know such children might not always be easy to identify.
There are characteristics of dragons that are not unique to our species. Humans have a portion of them, so these may be magnified when one parent is also a dragon. We are great storytellers, so their gift could be profound eloquence. You might also see unusual strength or deep wisdom. It’s hard to say what these unions might create.”
Walter jumped to his feet. “C’mon!” he said, pulling Billy up and slapping him on the back. “Show us some fire breathing!”
“Walter, be polite,” the professor warned. “Young William may find such a display embarrassing. After all, his talent is not exactly commonplace.”
Billy scratched the cave floor with the toe of one shoe. “No . . . it’s all right. I’ll show you guys.” Actually, the professor was half right. Billy did feel some embarrassment, but at the same time he felt relief, and he wanted to show off for his dad anyway.
He turned toward an empty part of the cave and stepped into the shadows. After taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth in a wide circle. With his chest muscles taut, he began exhaling slowly. A narrow stream of yellow flowed out. It grew rapidly, brightening until it became a blazing river of flames, stretching out over a dozen feet before vaporizing into a column of gray smoke. Billy pushed the fiery jet for ten seconds, his face turning beet red, before he finally closed his mouth and slapped his hand across his chest. “Whew!” A ring of smoke passed through his lips and wafted into the darkness.
“Cool as ice!” Walter shouted.
“Bravo!” the professor added, clapping. “William, that was amazing!”
Clefspeare sighed, letting a few sparks fly into the cave’s flowing air columns. “Yes, Billy, you have developed your gift quite well.” The dragon pushed on his haunches and dragged his body closer to the professor. “Now I believe you know all of the basic facts, Professor Hamilton, and Billy can fill you in on the details, but there are mysteries remaining to be solved.”
Professor Hamilton rubbed the front of Merlin’s diary and opened it to the blank page. “Now we have two of the mysterious treasures restored to us, and it’s clear that the slayers never discovered how to make these pages reveal their secrets.”
Clefspeare’s scaly brow furrowed. “Yet they have used Excalibur in a way I do not yet understand. It gave this son of Devin youthfulness and vigor, though he could not use it to transluminate his victims.”
“Then we must make sure they don’t get it back,” the professor said. “I thought perhaps your son might be able to draw the sword out of the stone.”
Billy’s heart jumped. “Me?”
The professor placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I had suspected that William is in the royal lineage, and your story bears that out. It was an adoption, to be sure, but it was legal and fully binding.”
Clefspeare growled, his eyes shining like a ruby laser. “You are right; the sword must be kept out of evil hands.” His eyes then slowly dimmed, and his voice mellowed. “I believe the evil rock Master Merlin called the candlestone could be housing Devin’s light energy, his mortal essence, within its prism walls. After I recovered my strength, I searched for the cursed thing for days, but I could not find it. I can only guess that his dark henchman returned to collect his remains. If Palin and Dr. Conner are in the slayer’s service, they may have formed an alliance to restore their master. How they would use Bonnie is a mystery, but they are already using her love to deceive her. There is no greater motivation than love . . . and no greater evil than treachery.”
Clefspeare lowered his head to Billy’s eye level. “Your professor may be right about the sword and the stone. Remember Merlin’s prophecy.
A king shall rise of Arthur’s mold
The prophet’s book in hand
He takes the sword from mountain stone
To rescue captive bands
“Try to pull it out,” the dragon continued, “but if you cannot, you may use Merlin’s prayer to call me. I will help you if I can.”
Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Royal lineage? Pull out a sword? Who were they trying to kid? He dragged his toe across the dirt again. “I . . . I’ll do my best. Anything for Bonnie.”
Professor Hamilton gasped. With the diary lying open in his hands, he stared at the pages, his mouth agape.
Walter rushed to his side. “I can read it! It’s even got normal words, not that old English stuff or funny looking letters.”
“Yes,” the professor agreed, breathless and excited. “I see it now! The veil is lifted. I know we’re in a hurry, but I must read this to everyone immediately.”
CHAPTER 6
THE CHAMBER OF LIGHT
Heavy snow pelted the windshield as Bonnie’s father drove deeper and deeper into a dense mountain forest. The Explorer bumped along on a narrow, snow-covered hiking path and swerved around sharp, slippery bends. Nail-biting drop-offs fell away on one side and steep slopes rose on the other. The tires slipped through the deepening snow, all four wheels churning to avoid a sideways slide over a precipice.
Bonnie kept one hand in her lap, the other fastened to the armrest as she watched the deteriorating conditions through the frosting window. She was accustomed to heights, but her wings would be of no help should the SUV plunge into one of the gorges. Though she tried to hide her nervousness, she gripped the armrest more tightly with every swerve.
Ashley’s eyes stayed focused on the tree-lined path ahead rather than on the rocky cliffs below. Her folded hands seemed relaxed, her thumbs merely caressing each other through the jolting bounces. Bonnie closed her eyes. Ashley must have traveled this path dozens of times. My father’s probably driven through snow like this before.
Bonnie bit her lip. For some reason Ashley’s familiarity with her father’s new life annoyed her. Was it jealousy that her father had found a replacement daughter of sorts? Or was it distrust that her new friend could be allied with this man whom her bad memories had painted as a demon over the past several months?
The Explorer slowed to a crawl at the crest of a hill in a more open part of the forest. It then turned left onto a side path, a narrow clearing pockmarked with icy potholes. Each divot surrendered its snowy covering as the SUV bucked and bounced through them and finally stopped. Bonnie tried to find a house or a cabin as she peeked through the window’s crystals but saw only a scattering of poorly dressed trees standing around in the snow.
Her father got out, opened the left rear door for Ashley, and motioned for Bonnie to slide over and get out on the same side. Bonnie glanced to her right to see if anything barred the door on her side, but there was nothing there.
Bonnie slipped on her oversized coat and stepped out into the wintry Montana storm. Cold wind blasted her face, and her shoes sank in the snow. While she labored to pull her feet from the wet drift, her father retrieved the cases from the cargo space, handed the larger one to Ashley, and marched farther up the crude driveway. Ashley extended her free hand toward Bonnie and pulled her out to more solid ground. Snow seeped into Bonnie’s socks, weighing down her feet. She hoped their hike wouldn’t be a long one.
With snow pelting their heads and wind blowing icy flakes into miniature white tornadoes, they trudged to a head-high mound of rocks pressed into the steep upslope of the mountainside. A wooden door, no more than five feet high, had been crudely wedged into the rocks, and lumpy mortar filled the gaps between the frame and stone.
The makeshift door was so small, Bonnie thought it might open into a woodshed or a tool storage shack. Her glance fell on a large letter A carved in the door at waist level exposing fresh wood grain not yet weathered by Montana’s cruel winter.
Bonnie rubbed her gloved hand on the marred wood. “What’s the A for?”
Ashley set down her load and stretched a rubber coil that held a key chain to her belt loop. “It’s a capital alpha,” she explained, “a Greek letter. We had another entrance that we called Omega, but it’s closed now.” Using a long silver key, she unlocked the door and pushed it open on its creaking hinges. “Are you ready f
or a big surprise? It won’t be long now.”
Ashley’s genuine smile promised a good surprise, so Bonnie kept her hopes up. Maybe her mother really was around somewhere. Maybe this entrance led to the lab Ashley talked about, even though it looked more like the opening to an ancient mountaintop outhouse.
Her father bent over, pushed his head through the doorway, and plucked a flashlight that dangled from a hook on the inside wall. He flicked it on and ducked through the entrance. “Follow me,” he said before disappearing inside.
Bonnie peered in. All she could see in the wide flashlight beam was a downward stairway leading into darkness.
Ashley picked up her case and motioned with her head for Bonnie to follow. They both bent over to pass under the door’s upper frame, moving out of the bitter cold and into quiet stillness. “Should I close the door?” Bonnie asked softly. Even her quiet voice sounded like a trumpet in the narrow stairwell.
“Yes,” Ashley whispered.
Bonnie pushed the door until she heard the latch click in place. The waving flashlight beam bobbed down the corridor, her father’s breaths passing through it in rhythmic puffs of white. Their footsteps clopped and echoed, making their furtive march sound like a small army stomping down the stairs.
“Stay close,” Ashley warned, raising her voice. “It’s pretty far, and it gets steep in places, but it levels out in a few minutes.”
Bonnie didn’t count the number of stair steps exactly, but she guessed it was getting close to two hundred, with each wooden plank becoming shorter and narrower than the one before. As Ashley had said, the descent eventually leveled out, the stairwell smoothing into a narrow tunnel they had to negotiate single file. Loud drips echoed from somewhere up ahead as if big water drops plunged into static pools, and they played a rhythmic harmony to their crunching steps. The floor felt like crumbling asphalt, but at least it was dry.