Tears of a Dragon (26 page)

As the dragons and humans backed away, Thigocia lumbered forward and settled near Marilyn. The professor energized Excalibur’s beam, sending it rocketing into the sky. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Legossi blared a trumpet-like blast. “Danger!”

Sir Barlow thrust his finger toward the sky. “A Watcher is flying this way! And it’s carrying Shelly . . . uh, Morgan, that is.”

The professor spun around, now wielding the sword in a defensive stance. The dragons stood, and the knights leaped aboard. Barlow caressed Legossi on the side of her neck. “We are all tired, so we will not fight unless we must. But show them the fire in your eyes and make them believe we will attack at any moment.”

The Watcher landed gracefully and set Morgan on her feet. She looked less like Shelly than ever, her face contorting like a twisted rag, the red in her eyes as bright as ruby lasers. Her calm voice, however, belied her wrathful expression. “I think it is time that we end our conflict,” she said, rubbing the back of her head. She clapped her hands, and a wave of snake demons flew down from the sky and settled behind her in a mass of wiggling blackness. Eight Watchers landed at the front of the dark army, one dragging a wet human body in his hand.

Walter gulped. It was Sir Edmund. His head hung limply, and his chest neither rose nor fell.

The Watcher threw Edmund into their midst. His body slid to a stop between Karen and Shiloh, his dripping hair and clothes forming a puddle at their feet. Walter rushed to his side and laid a hand on his neck. Warm and pulsing. Still alive!

Finally, Devin glided to the ground and landed at Morgan’s side. “You have fought valiantly,” she called, “but you are obviously outnumbered. If you continue to fight, I will be forced to kill you all where you stand. I offer you, however, the opportunity to surrender. If you do, we will only kill the dragons. The humans will go free.”

“In a pig’s eye,” Barlow muttered.

Walter glanced at his allies. “We’re not afraid of her!” he yelled. “She’s just a category five hurri-pain who’s nothing but hot air.”

Each knight’s chin drew taut, and they puffed out their chests a bit more. Walter massaged his fist. His words seemed to help, if he could judge by how the troops carried themselves. They’d all need resolve in the face of those insurmountable odds lined up behind Morgan.

His gaze trailed to his dad whispering with Sir Patrick and Professor Hamilton. What were the three of them up to now?

Morgan held up Shelly’s fingers. “You have ten seconds to decide.” She began closing her hands one finger at a time. “Eight seconds . . . seven . . . six.”

Carl grabbed Excalibur from the professor, stepped to the front of the group, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Walter. “You have to release my daughter,” Carl said.

Walter grabbed his dad’s arm. “No! We can’t surrender!”

He shook loose from Walter’s grip. “Did you hear me, Morgan?”

Morgan lowered Shelly’s hands. An evil grin crawled across her face. “I see. You want to add another condition.”

“It’s not a condition!” Carl marched ahead, closing the gap between him and the evil army, Excalibur’s beam shooting upward. “I’m telling you to let my daughter go. You can’t have her.”

A Watcher sent a jagged bolt of darkness at him, but he set his feet and batted it away with the blade.

Morgan raised her hand. “Stop! He can’t hurt us with that sword. Only Merlin knows how to do that.” Her confidence, however, seemed to fade as Carl marched closer, brandishing Excalibur like a seasoned warrior.

Carl lowered the beam, angling it so the bright shaft of light hovered over Morgan. He waved it in a tight circle, as if painting a halo over her head—two rotations . . . three . . . four.

The red in Morgan’s eyes faded to pink. She seemed to teeter for a second, but she locked her knees and stood firm, speaking through clenched teeth, her voice only half as strong as before. “She gave herself to me. She’s mine.”

Five rotations . . . six. Carl spoke in a low, calm tone. “I am her father. I renounce her vow and apply this shroud of protection.” He completed a seventh rotation and lifted the beam. “Now she’s mine.”

Shelly dropped to her knees, her eyes rolling back. Smoke drained from her nostrils, collecting in a column next to the closest Watcher. As the smoke solidified, Shelly toppled forward. Before any of the demons could react, Carl scooped her up and retreated, running as fast as he could, Excalibur still in his grip.

The smoke coalesced into a female shape, a floating black hag of a woman. She lifted her ghostly hands to her withered face and screamed. With her eyes bloody red again, she thrust her arm forward. “Devin! Activate the poison!”

The dragon heaved a long, hot stream of air, blowing across the field like a Sahara storm. As the scalding breeze passed over the ground, thousands of “pops” sounded from the dirt. Strings of black arose, engulfing Walter and his allies with spewing fountains of noxious gas.

Walter stared at Morgan through the gathering haze. A vague form floated beyond the field of black fog as she cackled. “The rain worked perfectly. Now, if the doubt doesn’t destroy their hearts, the cyanide will snuff out their lives.”

Both dragons and humans fell to the ground like rubbery bowling pins, coughing and retching. Walter keeled over, dropping to his knees and clutching his stomach. He wheezed, trying to suck oxygen out of the poisoned air, but the pungent scent of almonds and choking gas clamped his throat shut.

Walter clawed helplessly at the ground. Was this it? Was it all over? Their struggles had been meaningless, futile attempts to do good in this world of sorrows. Why had he even tried? Mankind had been doomed ever since Adam ate the fruit, so why try to save people who didn’t want to be saved? They weren’t worth the effort. Every second he had suffered was a futile waste of sweat and blood.

Writhing in the dirt, he desperately tried to gasp a good-bye to his parents. Most of the bodies lay motionless under a blanket of gloom. Yet, one person stood upright, sleek and lovely, her blond-streaked hair shining in the rays of sunlight that filtered through the fog. Shiloh!

She leaned over and plucked something from the wet spot near Edmund’s face. It looked like a flower of some kind, a tall stalk that ended in a round bulb. It hadn’t been there earlier, so it must have sprouted and budded in a matter of seconds. She peeled back the bulb’s covering, then broke off a piece of white stuff inside. After putting a piece in Karen’s and Edmund’s mouths, she hurried to Walter and pressed a fragment through his lips.

With his senses failing, he could barely hear her gentle British tones. “Chew it quickly.” She jumped up and disappeared into the mist.

Walter made a feeble effort to grind the fragment in his teeth, then swallowed hard and forced it down his throat. It was sweet, sort of like honey, but as soon as it reached his stomach, it turned bitter. Gas erupted in a painful belch. Cramps wrenched his muscles. He curled into a fetal position and moaned. Heat blazed from his gut and radiated to his skin. Sweat spilled from every pore, drenching his body.

When the pain eased, he opened his eyes. His vision had cleared. His stomach muscles relaxed, allowing him to stand. With the smoke breaking up, he could see Shiloh giving some of the plant to one of the knights. Other people rose from the ground and straightened their frames. Barlow. Newman. Even Edmund began climbing to his feet. The other two hoisted him the rest of the way and patted him on the back.

Walter dashed to his parents and offered his mother his hand. His dad brushed himself off and lifted Shelly to her feet. She seemed woozy, but even her bleary eyes were an improvement over Morgan’s scarlet spotlights. When she saw Walter, she gave him a weary smile. “Forgive me?” she asked.

Walter gave her a warm hug. “You bet.”

She pulled at the sides of her black dress. “I think I need to change . . . a lot of things.”

Walter clasped her shoulder. “I know what you mean. . . . We’ll talk.”

His dad retrieved Excalibur and waved it over his wife’s head.

She coughed. “Carl?”

“I’m applying . . . a protective halo . . . so the demons won’t see you.” When he finished, he handed the sword to Walter. “Take it,” he gasped. “I’m too weak to fight with it.”

Walter encircled his fingers around the hilt, and the blade brightened in his grip. As if drawn by Excalibur’s beacon, Karen ran to Walter’s side and clutched his arm. “Do you think they’ll attack when the smoke clears?” she asked.

Walter tried to peer through the smoke, but he could only get a vague sense that something was still moving out there. “Don’t worry,” he said. Karen leaned against his shoulder. Her touch sent a surge of strength into his flexing muscles. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Bonnie and Brogan raced to the front of the rubellite screen. About twenty people had gathered on the stage, each one anxiously watching the image.

“For a while it was blank,” Martha said, “like something covered it up, but all of a sudden I could see an angel and two girls. Then the screen started bouncing. For a few seconds, I saw a horrible dog with green and orange teeth, then just a floor of some kind. It changed so quickly, it was hard to keep up with, but there was a lot of grass and people’s feet. After a few minutes, I could see faces, worried faces. There was a big man. I could tell right away he was a friendly sort, and strong too. He was carrying a little girl in one arm, and a pretty woman hung on to his other arm. She was crying . . . sobbing, really. The big man hugged and kissed the woman, quite a passionate kiss, if you ask me, and then he walked out of view. Then an old man struck the ground with a flashing sword, and a girl with rays of sunshine coming through her eyes looked at us. The light actually came right into the theatre and lit up the whole room. After a few seconds, her eyes returned to normal, and she started crying. Since that time, we’ve been watching blue sky with flying dragons passing across the screen every once in a while.”

Bonnie had a hard time taking her eyes off the red glass. Whoever was wearing the pendant now was keeping it perfectly still, giving them a good view of what was going on. A battle raged in the air, mounted dragons shooting jets of fire at the Watchers as they dodged and darted about, battling back with bolts of darkness emanating from their eyes. Bonnie counted only six dragons. Hartanna wasn’t among them.

Bonnie paced in front of the screen and glanced more and more often at the door to the lobby. Billy had to come at any second now. He would bang the door open and march in with a hundred new believers. But the door, like an unanswered prayer, remained shut. She clasped her hands in front of her and breathed another silent petition for Billy’s safety. This was no time for doubt. God’s timing and wisdom were perfect.

A gaunt old man stepped forward, his voice shy and apologetic. “Excuse me, Miss. We have less than ten minutes. When do we leave?”

Bonnie wanted to give him a confident answer, but how could she? Her own confidence was as fragile as burnt thread, and she had no answers. “Well, I think this screen is supposed to turn white, and then . . . we’ll go through, I guess.”

Sarah, as if reading Bonnie’s mind, laid her arm around her shoulders. “I can already feel my memory coming back, and I know what my husband would say. We cannot predict how God will work, only that he will always succeed.”

“Where is Billy?” a voice interrupted.

Bonnie spun around. Merlin was again standing inside the screen, his brow low. She glanced at Sarah, who smiled and eased back into the crowd, seeming almost bashful as she stood next to Dorcas.

Bonnie stepped closer to the screen. “We separated,” she explained. “He told me to come here while he tried to rescue some people.” She flashed a broad smile. “Your wife’s here!”

Merlin beamed. “Excellent!” But he quickly doused his delight, looking like a man who knew he had to get down to business. He beckoned for Bonnie to come closer. She peeked at the whispering crowd, each face darkened by worry, then took the last step between her and the crystal wall. Merlin spoke in a low, serious tone. “Did it seem that the villagers wanted to kill him?”

“Some did,” Bonnie whispered. “Jasmine for sure.”

Merlin’s brow dipped even farther. “If they succeeded in killing him, who will bring his body here so he can be raised?”

Bonnie gulped and peeked back at the onlookers again. Brogan had drawn closer, obviously listening while pretending not to. “I . . . I don’t know,” she said. “Billy thought I could take the people through, so I—”

Merlin raised his voice and gestured toward the people on the stage. “Only the king can pierce the veil! If he doesn’t come in time, none of these faithful ones will be able to pass.”

Bonnie’s stomach knotted. The whole world seemed to be crumbling, and she could do nothing about it. She laid her palm on the crystalline screen. “Merlin, I’m so sorry! It was all so confusing. We just had to guess what to do.”

Merlin pressed his palm up against Bonnie’s. “Yes, it seems that God often works that way. He lets his children step out in faith, even though they don’t always know exactly what they’re doing, and he makes their choices work.” He slid his hand into the deep pocket of his robe and withdrew a large hourglass. “But still, God’s prophecies cannot fail. The king must open the door.” He set the hourglass by his feet. The sands in the top half were almost gone. “Time is running out. There are fewer than seven minutes remaining.”

“I’ll go and drag him back here if I have to,” Brogan offered. “Those others aren’t worth dying for, are they? They never believed before.”

Bonnie pointed her finger directly at Brogan’s nose. “Did you ever come to the theatre before today? Why should you get to go and not them?”

Brogan backed away and bowed his head. “Touché, fair lass. A well-placed blow.” He hurried to the edge of the stage and began descending the stairs. “But still, the practical truth is—”

The door banged open. A tall figure walked in carrying a body, but the darkness in the back of the seating area concealed his identity. Dozens of others filed in after him, each face veiled in the dimness, each pair of feet shuffling. Only their wide white eyes were visible, darting this way and that.